


How to Deal With Vikings

by Manakete_Smoocher



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Basically just a rewrite of the Canon Events but I add my OC, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, and then some other OCs later, this is real self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 66,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manakete_Smoocher/pseuds/Manakete_Smoocher
Summary: Growing up, Irish-born Aran had an adopted dragon brother named Méaróg. As such, it was quite a surprise to find himself on the Isle of Berk after his fifteenth birthday. Not completely sure how to get home, he supposed he should stay put...--This fic was originally on fanfiction.net, but I'm in the process of rewriting it and such and I wanted to move it here because fanfiction.net is dead.





	1. An Egg?

**Author's Note:**

> Underlined text is supposed to be Irish, by the way. That's more important in later chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined text is supposed to be Irish, by the way. That's more important later on.

Aran was a young Irish boy, about the age of four, and he looked about as stereotypically Irish as someone possibly could, with fiery red hair and a seemingly infinite number of freckles spattered across his pale skin. His hair was cropped rather short, but he was planning on growing it out so he could pretend to be Cú Chulainn or something. Aran loved Cú Chulainn. When he wasn’t trying to read of the great hero’s exploits, he was busy looking for cool rocks on the beach a ways away from his home, or trying to play with the sheep his parents spent quite some time taking care of.

At that moment, he was looking for rocks. It wasn’t optimal weather for such an activity, what with the dark clouds blocking the sun, but when would that deter a young child? Young children are unpredictable at best, and Aran was no exception. Normally, his parents wouldn’t let him search the beach with the storm on its way, but his mother, Orlaith, reluctantly agreed to go with him. Canice had told his wife to stay safe as the two of them left the house, Aran running out the door rather energetically. He maintained his energy as he dug around in the moist sand, shrieking when the cold water touched his bare feet. Orlaith smiled rather fondly at him, despite her exhaustion from trying to keep up with him.

“ Mummy, mummy, what’s that? ” Aran asked, tugging insistently on her dress. Orlaith’s eyes followed where he was pointing to.

“ That… ” She squinted a bit, leaning forward. Her eyes widened in surprise. “ Stay behind me, Aran. ” Orlaith instructed, and Aran looked up at her curiously.

The large shape Aran had asked about was clearly a dragon, which was quite odd, seeing as the area they lived in was (thankfully) spared from the dragon raids other lands were plagued with. Orlaith and Aran had both heard those sorts of stories from various travellers. Despite these travellers practically quaking in their boots just from the telling of such tales, Aran had developed one of those childhood fascinations for the dangerous, fiery creatures. As such, when he realized exactly what the large lump of something in the distance was, Orlaith had a rather difficult time keeping him behind her. She wasn’t completely sure why she was approaching the beast. Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn’t moving in the slightest, not even to breathe.

It was a pale shade of pink, with faded brown stripes across its wings that were likely much darker at some point. The eyes were somewhat small for a creature of its size, and she couldn’t see the colour because they seemed glued shut. Upon closer inspection, she realized one of its wings had broken, and there were various injuries on its body. It was quite odd, and she stood there with her brows furrowed, not sure what to make of the discovery. Aran took advantage of his mother’s confusion to approach the dragon. Orlaith would have stopped him, but she’d realized the dragon was quite dead.

“ Hey mummy, what’s this? ” Aran asked, pulling something from the reptile’s claws.

“ Well, it looks like an egg, sweetie. ” Orlaith crouched down by Aran, petting his head. “ I think this was a mummy dragon. ”

“ Oh. ” Aran seemed conflicted. “ Mummy dragon probably wants it back, then… ” He pouted. “ I wanted to keep it. ”

Orlaith couldn’t help but wonder at that moment if dragons were innately horrible. It was something she’d never thought of in the past, but now she found herself pondering the outcome of raising the creature from an egg. Could it be taught to help around the farm? She glanced at the creature’s mother, and couldn’t help but ask herself what she would do if this were any other animal. Aran was hugging the egg, which was a somewhat entertaining image as it was roughly the size of his head. Perhaps a little larger.

“ I don’t think the mummy dragon wants to keep her egg. ” Orlaith said after a moment of thought. “ In fact, I think we should take care of it instead. ” Aran gasped excitedly.

“ Really!? ” He jumped up and down a little.

“ And it can be your new baby sibling! ” Orlaith grinned, taking the egg from him, somewhat worried he would drop it.

“ I can’t wait to tell daddy! ” Aran shouted, and started running.

“ Aran, wait! ” Orlaith called after him, taking one last look at the dead dragon before chasing her son.

She could only hope this wasn’t a huge mistake, and that her husband wouldn’t be upset with her. She’d always been the more impulsive of the two, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a really old fic of mine that I've been rewriting. The original is on fanfiction.net (under the same name, my username there is ManaketeSmoocher) and I also have more of the rewrite posted there. I'm trying to move to Ao3 because I know it's a much more popular website, but I'm also not very used to it so please be kind to me because I don't know how it works :')


	2. Just His Luck

Canice had been understandably nervous when his wife and son returned in the middle of a rainstorm holding what was clearly a dragon egg. Using her womanly wiles, Orlaith convinced him it was a perfectly fine and normal idea to hatch a dragon egg, and with Aran looking so eager to have a dragon sibling, Canice had a very hard time saying no. It took some thinking to figure out the best way to hatch the egg, and they wound up warming it in the fireplace. Aran had made a comment about it looking like a pebble at some point while waiting, and begun referring to it as Méaróg from that moment on. When Méaróg finally hatched, it was with a bit of an explosion. Canice and Orlaith had frantically gone around to make sure nothing caught fire, while Aran eagerly got as close to it as possible, and immediately introduced himself as the dragon’s brother.

Méaróg looked like a smaller, slimier version of its mother. The majority of its scales were a soft pink colour, with slightly darker brown stripes spanning the length of its wings. Its eyes were like pearls, and it stretched, opening its mouth rather wide in what was probably a yawn. Aran put his hand on its head and claimed that he loved him already. Canice told him he really needed to stop touching it because it was slimy and he was getting dirty.

Upon getting the dragon cleaned up (and deciding they would call it male unless he started laying eggs), Canice and Orlaith decided they would give him a sort of probationary period, closely monitoring his behavior. After a few weeks, it seemed clear that Méaróg wasn’t about to set fire to their home (on purpose, at least), and they’d all grown fond of the dragon, so it was decided he was part of the family indeed. Aran was eager to show off his new baby brother to everyone in town, and had received quite a few screams in response. Undeterred by this, he simply decided to play with the dragon away from the people who judged them. After a few years had passed, it was quite evident to even the grouchiest of villagers that Méaróg wasn’t any danger to them, and they even began to rely on him for heavy lifting.

Méaróg had grown much larger, measuring to about thirty feet long and weighing around two-thousand pounds. It was evident that the pearl-y eyes were due to his near blind eyesight, though they were unsure whether that was normal for the species or if it was simply a birth defect. The stripes on his wings darkened with age, and despite the ridiculous size difference, one of Aran’s favorite pastimes was to wrestle with his ‘baby’ brother. It kept him rather fit, along with any help he did around the farm. Unfortunately, it also gave him some rather deep scars due to the reptile’s claws, but Aran thought they were actually pretty cool after they healed. He liked to show them off.

Feeding the dragon had been somewhat of an issue at first, as Méaróg seemed to refuse any food they provided for him. Thankfully, they discovered that the dragon would only eat fish, and now that he was old enough to fly, he would fly off on his own to get fish from the ocean. Méaróg generally did that in the mornings and afternoons. Any time between then was spent with his adoptive family, helping herd sheep amongst other things. As time progressed, Aran grew increasingly more curious about riding him, but Orlaith and Canice were very much against the idea.

Aran was somewhat frustrated by this, but he supposed he understood. He wasn’t a child anymore, after all. In fact, it had become more evident that he wasn’t, as he’d become acutely aware of the fact that his body was changing in the way girls develop. He’d always been aware that he was different in mind than he was in body, and his parents had thankfully been open-minded and let him live as the gender he was more comfortable with, but it was rather hard to pass as male when he began growing breasts. When his friends began to question him about it, he panicked and claimed that a witch had cursed him. They didn’t believe him. At age thirteen, Aran lost most of his friends. The few who didn’t reject him could be counted on one hand, and he was understandably upset by this reality. He spent the next two years of his life truly hating himself, and spent nearly all of his time off exploring the woods with Méaróg and playing the tin flute he’d managed to get from a trader some years ago. It was after his fifteenth birthday that something changed about his self-image.

“ Orlaith, I think he’s waking up. ” That was his father. Why was his father in his room? He tried to sit up, but his head felt like it was being squeezed by a very determined snake. Aran groaned and decided he didn’t want to sit up after all.

“ Don’t push yourself. ” Orlaith sounded… annoyed?

Aran pried his eyes open to look at her, and groaned again, because his mouth also tasted bad, and everything was a bit sore, and he felt pretty gross in general. His chest also hurt for some reason, but he couldn’t remember anything. He heard Méaróg crooning in concern from outside his window, as the dragon was too large to be inside the house anymore. Aran very definitely felt like he needed to empty the contents of his stomach, so he succeeded in sitting up this time before stumbling to the window, ignoring the ache in his head, and doing just that. He silently apologized to Méaróg, but he also thought it would be easier to clean up that mess if it were outside as opposed to inside.

“ Drunk. ” He mumbled. He had probably gotten drunk. This was what happened when people were hungover, right?

Looking down at his chest, he noticed a few things. He was shirtless for one, and that revealed bandages wrapped around him. Another thing he noticed was that his chest was flat, and some memories came back to him. He’d been having a particular awful day, and somehow managed to get his hands on some alcohol. After that, he supposed his impulse control was shot, and he’d done… something really stupid. He couldn’t remember exactly what, because the pain had been rather intense and he was likely trying to block it from his memory, but he recalled burning his chest afterwards- perhaps in an attempt to close a wound? After that, everything went blank. Perhaps he’d passed out. He wasn’t quite sure how he got home, but he supposed Méaróg had something to do with it.

“ Aran? ” Orlaith seemed concerned.

“ Sorry mum, I’m fine. ” Aran turned to look at her, rubbing his head a little. “ I just want a hot bath. And water? And I’m starving… ”

“ Well, I’ll get the bath going for you, and your father can make you food, how does that sound? ” Orlaith’s voice was soft, and Aran managed a smile, nodding.

Aran spent perhaps a bit too long in the bath after washing his mouth out, but he felt rather relaxed. He had to make sure his bandages didn’t get wet, but otherwise it was fine. Afterwards, he made his way to the dining table, where his father had prepared a meal of eggs amongst other things Aran didn’t have the energy to pay attention to. He drank a lot of water before going back to his room and getting under the covers. Then he slept for a good long while, ate again, and went back to sleep. In the morning, his mother changed his bandages. None of them really talked about what he’d done to himself, but he silently decided he didn’t want to drink again for a long while.

Several days passed, with Aran taking it easy due to his burn healing. The leathersmith in town had crafted a saddle to fit Méaróg as a gift for Aran’s fifteenth birthday, but his parents forbade him from flying until he was healed. Aran felt that was fair, but he also really wanted to fly, and he was going crazy from not being able to do anything. All he’d had to look forward to for days was talking to the owner of the bookstore so he could learn to read, and also learn a couple words from a few different languages. As most people in town are aware, however, his stories tend to be a bit on the long side, and sometimes he got caught up in telling those as opposed to teaching Aran what the weird lines on paper meant. Not that Aran disliked the stories particularly (they were actually quite fun to hear on occasion), but he also like trying to read. There were plenty of books in the store that had fascinating pictures, and he was rather interested in what the less visual ones had to say.

It was a rather cloudy day when Aran couldn’t wait any longer to ride Méaróg. He wasn’t sure where he was planning on going, but he thought his chest was probably healed enough for him to go on an easy flight. When he woke up, his parents were already up, tending the farm, so all he had to do was sneak to where he knew Méaróg’s saddle was without them noticing. It wouldn’t be too difficult, as he’d already scouted out where it was. He didn’t know how long he’d be flying for, so he decided to bring his tin whistle and sketchbook with him, along with a writing utensil. He put those in a little pouch before leaving to get the saddle.

Méaróg was excited to fly, and that only fueled Aran’s energy. He marveled at the craftsmanship of the saddle for a moment before fastening it on his dragon and mounting him. The two of them took off, and Aran felt his heart pounding in his chest as they began to fly. It was an incredible experience, being in the air like that. Even though they were going at such a leisurely pace, Aran felt the wind whip at his face, and he took a moment to tie his hair back at the nape of his neck. Brown eyes darted around, taking in everything he could see. He pulled out his sketchbook, drawing the house he’d lived in from the new angle. After nearly dropping the sketchbook, he hastily put it away, and decided to focus on the actual flying. Maybe he’d be able to do that kind of stuff later, but right now it was kind of difficult just trying to stay balanced.

Aran didn’t really have to do much besides balance though. Méaróg had been flying nearly his entire life, and though it was weird having the new weight on his back, he didn’t struggle too much. The flight was quite pleasant, really. That was, before he realized he was flying in the general direction of a rather unpleasant storm. By the time the brothers noticed, the winds were stronger than Méaróg was accustomed to flying in, and Aran was having a hard time just trying to stay on his back. A harness would be a good investment in the future, but there wasn’t anything he could really do about that in the moment. Of course, that was assuming this wasn’t his last moment alive. It was just his luck that he’d get caught in a storm on his very first flight…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today, but I'm going to try and keep a bi-weekly update schedule of Tuesdays and Fridays if I can.  
> Also, I tagged this with Trans Male Character and Genderfluid character, I just wanna let you know both of those characters are OCs. Aran is the trans guy, and the genderfluid character will be introduced much later on. If you don't like OCs I'm sorry.


	3. Berk

Aran wasn't completely sure when he passed out, but he assumed it was some point after he fell off of Meáróg’s back and into the harsh, cold waters of the ocean. The dragon had dived after him at the time, but was unaccustomed to flying in such winds, and by the time he reached him, both wound up in the water. Both of them got caught in a strong current, and it was all Meáróg could do to cling to his human brother so they wouldn't get separated. He'd never known waters to be so violent before, and lost all sense of direction in his effort to stay afloat.

When Aran woke up, his lips felt dry and cracked. He tried to reach his right hand up to feel them, but found himself gasping with a sudden pain. When he pried his salt encrusted eyes open, he found himself squinting at a heavily clouded sky, and he gingerly reached his left hand over to his right shoulder. He winced a little, carefully sitting up with the aid of his working arm before looking down to inspect his right shoulder. It looked wrong. Aran thought back to the time a couple years ago when one of his friends dislocated his shoulder. It looked a lot like that, so he assumed that was what had happened. He couldn’t remember how one was supposed to fix that, however, so he decided to leave it alone for the time being and try to move it as little as possible. It was with caution that he stood up, and relief when he deduced that was his only significant injury. Or at least, the only one he could feel. The rest of him was numb.

Aran brushed some sand off of himself, turning to look at the ocean. He was on a somewhat dreary beach, and he felt a dull ache through his whole body. He shivered, registering that his clothes hadn’t quite dried. They were heavy, and felt awful. A moment of panic shot through him when he couldn’t see Meáróg anywhere, but he heard a familiar caw from the nearby woods that soothed his nerves. Aran nearly tripped over his feet in his haste to follow the sound, and stumbled after Meáróg’s voice. He had no clue where the two of them were, or how far from home they’d wound up. In fact, he didn’t even know what he would do after getting back to Meáróg. Flying seemed to be an awful idea after what had happened last time, and he was quite sure he wouldn’t have been able to stay upright anyways. He didn’t know where he was, or how to fix his shoulder. He didn’t know if there were people in this land. He didn’t know anything, really.

All he had with him was his small bag, with his tin whistle and sketchbook. The flute would rust if he didn’t do anything about it, so he fumbled a bit in his efforts to retrieve it. His left hand was perhaps a little uncoordinated, but he didn’t want to feel the sharp pain shoot through his right shoulder again so he made do. He bit the mouthpiece to hold it and free his left hand to get his sketchbook. It was probably ruined, but he tried to be optimistic and told himself it might be fine if he let it dry out in the sun. Aran’s eyes flicked up to the sky, reminding himself of the heavy clouds. Maybe not the sun, but he was sure the air would be better than being trapped inside his bag.

Despite the thoughts shooting through his head, it only actually took him a few minutes to reach Meáróg. The pale pink dragon had certainly seen better days, but he looked better than his human brother at the very least. Though Aran hadn’t had the chance to see his reflection, he could feel that his hair was a mess, and the string he’d previously used to tie it had snapped. His skin was also probably splotchy and red from the ocean, as well as the cold. Aran felt his stomach hurt, and he wondered how long he’d been passed out, how long it’d been since he’d eaten. Meáróg cawed at him, and he managed a weak smile. The dragon gingerly nudged him with his snout, and he sighed.

Aran had a tendency to stay calm under pressure, and avoid panicking. True, he was lost and stranded somewhere very cold, but he was sure there had to be some way to fix things... right? It all seemed rather hopeless at that moment, however, and it felt as if he were being weighed down by a heavy blanket. That was a fair comparison, he supposed, as his clothes felt rather heavy with how wet and cold they were. He shivered, feeling quite a bit small and entirely overwhelmed by the predicament he’d found himself in. Meáróg crooned with concern, nudging Aran with his snout. Aran’s attempt to pet him was thwarted by his disabled shoulder, and he felt tears prick at his eyes after he cried out in pain, the flute falling out from between his teeth and onto the ground. He took a moment to squat down and retrieve his flute, holding it in his left hand along with his slightly less soggy sketchbook.

What Aran didn’t notice was Meáróg perking up, highly focussed on a sound too soft and distant for human ears. He didn’t miss the sudden growl, however, and when he looked up at his brother, he found him spreading his wings. Before he could speak, Meáróg ran off, getting himself into the air with record speed and flying away. Aran fell over in surprise, and let the tears properly escape his eyes. Reflecting on the moment later, he would tell himself Meáróg had his reasons for acting the way he did, and while dragons are more intelligent than most creatures, he was still an animal, and quite a young one for his species as well. In the moment, however, all he registered was that the only familiarity he had with him had suddenly abandoned him, and he hurt all over.

Aran didn’t know how long he stayed there on the cold ground, shivering violently, and trying to focus on how hot the tears streaming down his cheeks were. His chest heaved with sobs, and he allowed himself a moment of extreme weakness and pessimism, convinced he’d been abandoned completely, and that he would die there in that forest, freezing to death. Perhaps he’d see his gram and grandad in Heaven, and things wouldn’t be so bad. His parents would miss him, though. He was sure his parents  _ already  _ missed him. Meáróg would probably feel guilty for leaving him. Wind whipped around him and reminded him of the storm that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It made him feel bitter, but also served to mask the footsteps that were approaching his pitiful location on the ground.

“Umm, hello?” A nasally voice entered the scene, causing Aran to choke on his sob and attempt to scramble away. He cried out in pain and clutched at his shoulder, then hastily attempted to wipe his face of tears. “Sorry!”

The owner of the voice stepped back, holding his hands up in what Aran assumed was a gesture of peace. He looked up at him as he took shaky breaths, both of them trying to pretend he hadn’t just been crying loudly in the middle of a forest. Aran took in the boy’s appearance, judging him to be around ten, perhaps. That very well may be an inaccurate guess, but he was most likely younger than him at any rate. He was wearing clothes much better suited to the weather, and his brown hair fell in his green eyes. The boy brushed his bangs away with his left hand, and Aran noted what looked like charcoal on his skin. He was carrying a (dry) sketchbook as well, and looked an interesting mixture of confused, concerned, and nervous. Aran wasn’t sure what to say, and he hadn’t completely registered the words that came out of the boy’s mouth in the first place, so he just stared at him. The brunet cleared his throat.

“Are you, umm, are you… okay?” He asked. Aran blinked.

“ Oh, God. ” He muttered to himself. Somehow he’d managed to leave Ireland entirely, judging by the language. “ I’m so lost. ” Aran laughed a watery little laugh, covering his face with his uninjured hand.

“Can you understand me?” The boy tilted his head, looking even more concerned. “Uhh, hello, my name is Hiccup? Do you- do you speak Norse?”

“ Mmm… ” Aran moved his hand to just cover his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking very hard. Something about the language seemed very familiar, and he tried to place where he’d heard it before. “ Ah! ” He had heard it from a few of the travelers before! But… he never really learned any of it… Well, there was  _ one _ word he knew. “ Er, is this… dragons?” Aran questioned, teeth chattering.

“Wh-what about dragons?” The boy’s green eyes went wide in panic, and he looked around frantically. Aran supposed that reaction made sense.

“ No, wait, there aren’t any I just- I don’t know how to… ” He stopped talking, and the boy seemed to realize what Aran’s vague hand motion meant.

“Don’t scare someone like that…” He muttered, stepping closer to Aran. His eyes focused on Aran’s dislocated shoulder, and he winced a little. It seemed to occur to him that this stranger he found crying in the woods probably needed some help. “Can you walk?”

“ I don’t know what you’re asking me. ” Aran responded, having heard in his tone that he had probably been asked a question. Evidently, the stranger seemed to get the general gist of what he’d said, and smacked himself in the face.

“Right, I’m basically talking to myself. Not that that’s anything new, but… Umm, I’ll take you to the village…”

Aran really needed to figure out this guy’s name, but everything he said was gibberish to him, and nothing sounded particularly like a name, so he was stuck thinking of him as ‘the boy’ or ‘the stranger’ for the time being. The boy secured his charcoal inside his sketchbook before tucking it inside his vest and offering to help Aran stand. Aran noted that he automatically reached with his left hand (which was a relief, because his own left hand was his only working one at the moment), and gratefully accepted the help. His hand would have felt freakishly warm in comparison to Aran’s current body temperature had he not gone numb, but the shiver that went through the boy’s body was more than enough proof that Aran was an ice cube. The younger of the two made to start walking, but Aran didn’t budge from his spot or let go of his hand. Upon receiving a questioning look, he nodded his head down towards where his sketchbook and tin whistle were lying on the ground. The boy’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ of understanding, and he picked the items up somewhat clumsily with his right hand, as Aran still hadn’t let go. Perhaps he was feeling a bit clingier than normal, but he could also attribute that to the fact that he had kind of gone numb and he was sort of maybe freezing to death. Just a little bit, though.

They began walking somewhere, though Aran wasn’t sure where he was being taken. He was sure it wasn’t anywhere dangerous. The younger boy didn’t seem malicious in the slightest. He seemed to know where he was going, and he navigated the path with a practiced sort of ease that made Aran think perhaps he was a bit of an outcast. Not that knowing where one was headed made someone an outcast, but the woods they were walking through seemed untouched by human hands, so he doubted the boy came here with his friends. A part of him wondered where Meáróg was, but the rest of him just hoped he was being taken somewhere warm. He was glad for the endless rambling that came from his guide, despite the fact that he couldn’t understand a word of it (apart from the occasional ‘dragon’). It was something to ground him in the real world, and it was oddly soothing. Aran hadn’t been paying particular attention to his surroundings, but he noticed the trees thin out, and in the distance, he could see what looked to be a village. He looked down at the boy, who was a good few inches shorter than him.

“Hooligan Village.” He said, gesturing towards the town. Aran tilted his head, and received an eye roll in response. The boy said the next words for his own benefit, and the tone of his voice made Aran wish desperately to understand him. “This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. Located solidly on the Meridian of Misery, Hooligan Village is a… let’s say it’s a sturdy place. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new.” Aran listened to his voice as they walked through town, and he wondered if they had a specific destination. “We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests.” They’d stopped holding hands as they entered the village, and the boy was making rather entertaining hand gestures as he spoke. “You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have…” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect despite his audience’s lack of understanding. “Dragons. Most people would leave, but not us. We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues. Maybe I’m not the best example of Viking to get you used to us, but I’m the one who found you. My name’s Hiccup. Great name, I know, but it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.” Hiccup gestured at a nearby villager, who was screaming at a sheep for some reason Aran couldn’t comprehend.

“ Your voice is funny. ” Aran commented, laughing a little, and Hiccup laughed a little too. He didn’t know why he was laughing, but he didn’t know how else to respond.

“Hiccup!” The boy Aran was with looked up at the new voice, and Aran blinked a few times. He looked at the source, and was surprised to see a man who was probably more than an entire foot taller than him, and likely three times as wide.

“Dad! Hey, hi!” His guide looked nervous, and Aran wondered who the man was.

“What’s this?” The man had a very authoritative vibe about him as he gestured in Aran’s direction, and Aran felt a bit intimidated by his existence.

“That, well, that’s umm, that’s a person, I think.” The boy stammered. He laughed awkwardly, and received a very unamused look.

“ Really wish I knew what you were talking about… ” Aran muttered, also wishing he could take a hot bath. The man studied him.

“ You’re Irish? ” His voice was heavily accented, but still understandable. Aran let out an audible gasp.

“ Yes! God, yes, I’m an Irishman through and through, my name is Aran, it feels so good to actually talk to someone! ” The words were leaving his mouth faster than he could think, and his face split into a grin.

“ Well, I’m Stoick the Vast, Chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe on the Isle of Berk. ” Stoick stated, introducing himself and providing a very helpful bit of information. Aran tried not to laugh at the tribe name. “ And this is my heir, Hiccup. ” Stoick gestured to a now bewildered Hiccup. “His name is Aran.” He told his son.

“What…” Hiccup was at a loss for words.

“ I’m really cold, and my shoulder hurts like hell, can I maybe take a bath and eat and have important conversations afterwards? ” Aran requested through chattering teeth. Stoick nodded.

“ I’ll get a bath ready, and… ” With no warning, Stoick shoved Aran’s shoulder back into place.

“ OW, holy fucking shit! ” Aran shouted, clutching his aching shoulder and refusing to let his eyes release any more of that salty liquid. “ I mean… ” It occurred to Aran that he was in the presence of an authority figure and perhaps shouldn’t swear.

Stoick let out a hearty laugh, however, and gestured for the two boys to follow him. Hiccup was at a loss, and Aran continued muttering curses under his breath. Father and son had a conversation that Aran didn’t bother trying to listen to, and he felt like he was burning when he followed Stoick into a warm building. He tried not to react to that, as he knew it was just his fingers trying regain their feeling, but he probably made a sound, judging by Hiccup’s concerned glance. Stoick informed Aran that he would get him new clothes from somewhere, but if he finished his bath before then he could just wrap himself in a blanket or something. Aran tried not to seem uncomfortable with that idea. Not that he was planning on taking that short of a bath. Aran planned to take the longest bath in the history of baths.

He was left alone, and wasted no time in stripping down and getting in the bath. The water felt like it was burning his skin off at first, but as he adjusted it felt pleasant, and getting all of the sea salt and grime off of his body felt like a dream. He combed his fingers through his hair, working the knots out before deciding he felt sufficiently clean and letting himself relax. His right shoulder was still hurting, but in a much better way than before. Glancing down at his chest brought conflicted emotions to the surface, and he sunk down in the water so he didn’t have to see the burn that was just barely healing over. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected from the ocean water and the clingy clothes. That was his last proper thought before he drifted off to sleep, energy completely spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey there's some actual httyd characters, who'da thunk?  
> I usually like to have notes at the end of my chapters but because I wrote this so long ago and you guys probably haven't read the original there isn't much for me to say about the changes I made.


	4. A Bit of Recovery

Aran was awoken with a start when someone shook his shoulder rather vigorously. His eyes flew open, and he snapped his head to look at that someone. It was Stoick. Aran subconsciously made an effort to cover himself when he realized he was still naked and in the bath, but Stoick hadn't been looking anyways, so there was no real point. The mountain of a man walked towards the door, and Aran looked around. He noticed there was a fresh pile of clothes near him as Stoick stopped in the doorway.

“ Gothi is our village elder. She’ll be taking a look at you to see if there's anything wrong. ” Stoick informed him. “ I have duties to attend to, and Hiccup should be waiting outside to take you to her hut. ”

With that, the chief left Aran alone. Aran took a moment to collect himself. His fingers were wrinkled like prunes, and they reminded him of his old gram. He found a towel and dried himself as quickly and carefully as possible before slipping into the clothes that had been provided for him. They were thicker than his old ones, and much warmer. He appreciated this a great deal. Everything came in varying shades of brown, and the jacket and boots were lined with fur. Aran looked around for some sort of reflective surface so he could check his hair, or something to tie it back with, but found nothing for the time being. That made him frown, but he supposed that was fine. He’d fix it later. Aran ran his fingers through his drying hair as he stepped out of the room.

He supposed Chief Stoick had actually meant outside in the cold when he said outside, because he couldn't see the man’s scrawny son anywhere. It was with great resignation that he opened the door to the freezing cold, and he shivered violently when he felt the wind bite at his nose. Aran squinted a little, rubbing his arms. It was dark out, and the little lighting around came from torches. He found it difficult to see anything more than a few inches in front of his face, and his eyes were already watering.

“Aran!” He heard Hiccup’s voice call out, and he turned to face him.

“ Hello, Hiccup. ” Aran greeted, teeth chattering only the slightest bit. He thought he heard Hiccup trip before he came into view.

“ H-hello… Jeeze, I hope I said that right…” Hiccup mumbled the second part to himself, and seemed to be dusting snow off of his knees.

“ Hello! ” Aran grinned at Hiccup as he repeated the greeting, and the younger boy looked a bit shy when he met his eyes. “ Gothi? ”

“Y-yeah, just umm,  follow… follow me… ” Hiccup said, really hoping he was getting the pronunciation right.

“ When did you learn Irish? ” Aran asked as the two began walking in a sort of rushed pace. He appreciated the rush, as it got his blood flowing, but he found his movements to be clumsier than usual.

“Uhh…” Hiccup deflated a little. “ Sorry , I-I only know a few words and I kinda learned them today.” He rubbed his arm, looking away.

“ Okay. ” Aran shrugged. He wasn't really sure what Hiccup had said, but he'd gotten the general idea. The general idea being that Hiccup was nowhere near fluent.

On the way to this ‘Gothi’ person’s hut, Hiccup noted that Aran seemed exhausted, and kept tripping over his own feet. He was shivering rather violently, and his hair wasn't quite dry yet. Hiccup could see the water in the red strands starting to freeze, even in the poor lighting. Aran had more difficulty than he would have normally on the way up to Gothi’s hut. If his brain were functioning at the proper pace, he would think this were a ridiculous place for an old woman to live. Hiccup saved him from a near fall to his doom when he stumbled, and Aran mumbled out an apology, his words slurring together. Hiccup grew increasingly concerned for him, and despite his short stature and general scrawniness, he wound up supporting the older male for the majority of the quest to reach Gothi’s hut.

“Gothi!” He called out when they reached the elder’s hut, trying to make his voice heard above the howling wind.

The door swung open near immediately, and the tiny old woman Aran correctly assumed to be Gothi was gesturing for them to come inside, quickly. Hiccup closed the door behind him when she shot him an expectant look. Gothi’s hut was a pleasant temperature, and she pushed Aran into a chair with her staff. In the middle of the room was a large pot with something boiling inside. It smelled like some sort of soup or stew. There was also a pot of tea ready, but both of these things were ignored by Gothi, who was currently feeling Aran’s forehead with her hand. She flipped his hands over a few times as well, and jerked him down to be eye level with the use of her staff. Aran blinked several times, unnerved by the large blue eyes that seemed to be peering into his soul. Not in any significant way, but she seemed rather judgmental.

Gothi clicked her tongue a few times, hobbling over to Hiccup and smacking him lightly with her staff before gesturing towards a chest. Not wanting to feel the true wrath of her cane, he hastened to open the chest, revealing several blankets. He got one, and Gothi nodded in Aran’s direction. Hiccup put the blanket around Aran’s shoulders as Gothi poured a cup of tea, adding an herbal powder to it. He could only assume it was some sort of medicine. Aran drank the tea, and felt a little hazy. His right shoulder still ached from its previous dislocation, and he held the cup in his left hand. Glancing around the dimly lit hut made him aware of the bed in the corner, and his urge to sleep grew stronger.

After finishing the tea, Aran’s cup was refilled and he was given a bowl of the soup Gothi had made. He hadn’t realized he was hungry before, but he was immensely grateful for this as soon as he took the first bite. Spoonful? He wasn’t sure what the right term was. Soup is strange. Hiccup and Gothi seemed to be having a one-sided conversation Aran couldn’t understand, but he’d have seen Gothi writing in the dirt had he been paying closer attention. The chief’s son left the hut, though Aran had no clue as to why. He probably had more important things to do than hang around.

Gothi had gone off to a different area of her hut as Aran finished the soup. She came back with bandages, and Aran assumed Stoick had mentioned his still healing burn wound. He stripped his upper half without saying a word, and winced when Gothi began rubbing some sort of ointment on the sensitive skin. It was cold, but it burned. The elder wrapped the bandages around his chest at that point, and gestured for him to put his shirt back on as she went to go hang his jacket. He did so, and through a bit of miscommunication, he understood that the bed in the corner of the room would be his for the night. Aran took the blanket with him and made himself as comfortable as he could, though he was still shivering. Gothi tossed another blanket on him, and he felt warmth seep into his skin.

Exhaustion took over, and his eyes slid shut, sleep following soon after. He wasn’t quite sure what he dreamed of, but he was unhappy to wake up in the middle of the night to dragons screeching. His initial reaction was to mumble for Méaróg to shut up and turn over in bed, trying to fall back asleep. It took a moment longer for him to remember where he was and realize the dragons outside were definitely not his brother. His eyes snapped open and he slowly sat up, looking around the room. It was dark; he could barely make out his surroundings. The only light came from the fire dying in the hearth, and Aran shivered. He made his way over to stoke the flame, keeping a blanket draped over his shoulders before going to the door.

Peeking outside revealed the dragon screeches to be coming from countless dragons attacking the village (what was it called? Hooligan Village?) and Aran frowned, closing the door once more and searching for the soup he’d had earlier. It wasn’t as if he’d finished it after all. Gothi seemed to have left it in the same pot and he took a moment to heat it before serving himself. Aran drew a stool to sit by the fireplace and sighed. None of the violence outside seemed to be touching the tiny hut he was residing in for the time being. He didn’t know any of the history this island held or how far from home he was. He didn’t even know where his brother was at this point and it was occurring to him that he’d left his sketchbook and tin whistle with Hiccup before he’d gotten in the bath hours ago. The noise outside felt incredibly distant and he was unable to focus on any particular thing.

He wondered if the bath he’d taken earlier had actually been hot or if it had merely been lukewarm and he was oversensitive to heat at the moment. He wondered why he didn't feel more concerned by the dragon attack happening outside. He wondered what was in the soup he’d just finished eating. He wondered where Gothi had gone off to. He wondered what Hiccup and Stoick were doing as well. He wondered why the dragons were even attacking and where Méaróg had gone. Was he helping attack? Was he in danger? They weren’t questions he could answer and they only stayed in his mind for a moment before being replaced by the next one.

Aran must’ve dozed off at some point, still holding his empty soup bowl, because the next thing he was aware of was Gothi nudging him to get back in bed. He wasn’t sure when she’d gotten back, or when the noise outside had died down, but he found himself drifting back to sleep quite easily. He couldn’t recall what he dreamed of that time either and he was still tired when he woke up that morning. The next few days passed in a sort of blur as he recovered from both his burn wound and what he was informed was hypothermia. It was rather dull, but Hiccup had been kind enough to provide him with a new sketchbook as well as returning his old, somewhat ruined one, and his tin whistle. With those pastimes, Aran found the days much less boring. Stoick tried to stop by the hut once a day to check on him but the two never exchanged more than a polite greeting. Aran supposed Stoick was waiting for him to heal before trying to figure out a plan for him.

It was somewhat awkward to get his period during his time of recovery. He hadn’t been planning on telling anyone in the village of the state of his body, but he supposed it was fine for Gothi of all people to know. She couldn’t exactly tell anyone, after all. Rather, she could through her writing in the dirt, but Aran trusted her not to bother. He’d learned to decipher her scribblings, as he had not much else to do while staying in her hut. As he began to recover he spent time on her porch, thinking about how boring it was to stay cooped up. He’d gone stir-crazy being cooped up in his room back in Ireland as well, and that was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Aran had some regrets on that front.

He enjoyed being able to sit on Gothi’s porch, his legs dangling off the edge. The cold would bite at his nose but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Grey skies didn’t give him much to look at, but if he leaned forward just a bit he could look at the tiny houses down below. He hoped he could draw the impressive sight without his fingers freezing and becoming stiff at some point. That was a large drawback to the cold climate. The wind at that altitude had a tendency to ruin his hair as well, so he generally kept it tied up with a string he’d found in Gothi’s hut. He preferred having his hair up anyways. It made him look less like a girl.

Aran heard footsteps approach as he was sitting on the edge of Gothi’s porch and without the telltale clack of the old woman’s cane, he was quick to assume this person wasn’t Gothi. He turned his head to look at the visitor and caught sight of a pair of somewhat dull green eyes. Aran took in the numerous freckles, brown hair, and baggy clothing, quickly recognizing the figure as Hiccup. The younger boy shuffled his feet with an air of self-deprecation before clearing his throat.

“ The, umm, the chief wants to speak… no, that’s not the right… wait, yeah, yeah it is.” He cleared his throat, starting over. “ The chief wants to speak to you. ” Hiccup managed, his words coming out slow as he tried to say them with as little an accent as possible. His brows were furrowed and those green eyes were locked on the wooden planks beneath his feet.

“ Oh? I wonder if I’m in trouble. ” Aran said aloud, though he was mostly talking to himself.

“Whatever that means…” Hiccup mumbled.

Aran followed the younger boy down the stairs that lead to and from Gothi’s hut. It was the first time he’d been allowed to go down them since his first night in town and he noticed how precarious the steps were. Perhaps he’d see about reinforcing them and adding a railing if he was going to be staying on Berk for long enough. He thought of it as repaying his debt to Gothi for letting him heal in her hut. Hiccup walked in front of him and Aran wished he could make proper conversation with the boy. He lead him to what Aran could only assume was the Great Hall he’d been told of, as there were numerous tables of food and many villagers eating lunch. Stoick was speaking with another viking about something and he wrapped up the conversation as Hiccup and Aran approached.

“Right then, get to that, don’t disappoint me.” Stoick patted a man on the back with perhaps a bit too much force as he dismissed him. “ Aran, come with me. It’s too loud to have a proper conversation in here. ” Stoick said, gesturing for him to follow. “You too, Hiccup.”

“Who, me?” Hiccup pointed at himself, looking bewildered. Stoick gave him an odd look, as if to ask if there were any other ‘Hiccup’s around. Hiccup withered under his stare. “Right, okay.”

“ What’s going on, Chief Stoick? ” Aran asked as the three of them left the Great Hall. He was trying to be respectful of the man who held his fate in his hands. Very large hands, at that. Aran felt small.

“ I wanted to speak with you sooner, but the dragon attacks have taken a toll on the village and you were still healing. I thought it best to wait until things settled down to have this conversation. ” Stoick explained. Aran nodded. “ I want to know who you are. ”

“ Who I am? ” Aran blinked, not having been expecting that question.

“ You show up on the island injured and soaking wet with a burn on your chest and not a word of Norse in your head. I send a search party off to where Hiccup found you, but they find nothing. No wreckage of a boat, no evidence of a raft, no nothing. I want to know where you came from, who you are, who you know, and who your enemies are. I don’t need any new threats to my village while we’re trying to hold our own in a war against monsters. ” Stoick’s voice was grave, and it made Aran feel he was in trouble for something he knew he was innocent of.

“ My name is Aran Ó Deoráin, and I got caught in a storm not too far from home. I don’t know where my boat went, and the ocean must’ve carried me north. ” Aran wasn’t about to tell Stoick the exact circumstances of his arrival. “ The burn is from something stupid I did to myself on my fifteenth birthday after I drank too much. I don’t know how to get back home and I don’t have any enemies. ” He said, hoping he'd answered all of the chief’s concerns. Hiccup wondered why he was there.

“ Hmm… ” Stoick appraised him. Aran maintained eye contact, though the intensity of Stoick’s stare gave him the urge to find a very dark cave to hide in. “ My gut tells me you're telling the truth, but one can never be too careful. These are dangerous times we’re living in.”

“ You can keep an eye on me if you want. I swear I don't have anything to hide. ”

Aran supposed that was a lie. He did have Méaróg to hide. That thought made him a bit sad, as he still hadn't seen Méaróg since he'd run off before Aran met Hiccup. Aran glanced towards the dull, grey sky and wondered where his reptilian brother had gone. He worried for him, as he knew Méaróg’s eyesight was nowhere near spectacular. It generally wasn't an issue, as his other senses were above average, but this was an unfamiliar location. Aran couldn't help but worry about him. He shook his head, looking back towards Stoick. It seemed the chief had been thinking about something during Aran’s own moment of thought.

“ Ireland is far away. ” Stoick stated. Aran frowned.

“ Oh… ” That was disappointing. Aran missed his parents, and his friend Finn.

“ With the dragon attacks, there’s no way I can spare the resources to get you home. ” The chief continued. Aran felt gloom set into his bones.

“ My parents… ” They must be terribly worried about him.

“ I'm sorry. ” Stoick said, but his words felt empty. Aran hugged himself. “ You’ll just have to stay here until… well, I don't know how long. ”

“ It's not like I have any other options. ” Aran sighed.

“ We need you learning Norse. ” Stoick stated. “ The fastest way for you to do that would be to follow me during the day. ” And he'd be able to keep an eye on him. “ But when I get too busy, you'll be helping Hiccup and Gobber in the forge. ”

“ Gobbler? ” Aran blinked.

“ Gobber. ” Stoick corrected.

“Dad?” Hiccup continued to have no idea why he was asked to come along.

“Aran will be helping in the forge when I'm busy.” The three of them stopped by what Aran could only assume was the forge, judging by the weapons he could see lying about. “When he gets fluent in Norse, he’ll spend even more time here, unless I find a better use for him.”

“Oh.” Hiccup didn't know what else to say about that. “Okay, cool, I guess.” He wondered if Aran would be a better blacksmith than him. Probably.

“ I have business to take care of, so I’ll leave you two here. ” Stoick said, adjusting his belt. “ You’ll stay with Gothi again tonight, but your living situation may change in the days to come. ”

“ Alright. ” Aran sort of didn't want to stay with someone else. He liked Gothi.

Stoick waved goodbye to the two of them, and it occurred to Aran that he had no idea how to do anything in a forge. In the next few hours he met Gobber (a friendly man with a few missing limbs) and also probably took a few years off of his life. He was quite sure Hiccup and Gobber understood the word ‘ sorry ’ by the end of the day with how much he'd apologized for his mishaps. After everything, however, he'd gotten the hang of it. He received instructions through Hiccup’s broken Irish, as well as a decent amount of charades. By the time Gobber decided to close up shop, Aran had expanded his understanding of Norse to some simple phrases, and could name any weapon in an armory. It was a very limited vocabulary.

Despite the ridiculous amount of apologizing he'd done in the forge that day, Aran had rather enjoyed his time spent with Hiccup and Gobber. He couldn't understand most of their exchanges, but watching them interact was amusing. It showed a different side to Hiccup he hadn't seen before. A side that wasn't meek and unconfident. Something about Hiccup was very interesting to Aran and he hoped he'd be able to have proper conversations with him soon.

“So… how do you say dragon in Irish?” Hiccup asked.

“ Uhh… ” Aran stared at him for a moment. Hiccup looked up at him. They were walking sort of aimlessly.

“Sorry, I can say that in-”

“ Dragon. ” Aran said, cutting him off. “ Dragons. ” He frowned a little, feeling an ache in his chest that could've been his heart or his burn wound. “ Sorry, I think I'm gonna go home. ” Aran paused. “Gothi.” He pointed towards her hut.

“Oh…” Hiccup was understandably not expecting that. “Did I say something…?” Aran shrugged, as he didn't understand him.

“ See you tomorrow. ” Aran said. “ Or not… ” He wasn’t sure if he’d be helping in the forge or following the chief around.

Hiccup just waved goodbye at him, watching his retreating back until it left his line of sight. At that point, he made his way to his own home. It had been a rather enjoyable day, for the most part, and he suspected he must have said something wrong. Had he followed Aran, he would’ve seen him taking a different turn and heading towards the forest, but he didn’t, so he saw no such thing. Instead, he went home and absentmindedly sharpened a bit of charcoal before writing out the details of a dragon-catching weapon he’d thought up earlier that day, completely unaware of Aran’s actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I'm really sorry I didn't update on Tuesday, but I was on a road trip and I didn't have Wi-Fi. To make up for it, I'm posting twice today.


	5. Norse is Hard

Aran made his way to the woods as opposed to returning to Gothi’s hut as he was supposed to. The Irish teen felt an odd mixture of loneliness, gloom, and determination. He hadn’t seen his brother since arriving on Berk. He missed him. He would find him tonight or die trying. Hopefully not that second option, though. Freezing to death seemed like an unpleasant way to go and it would be nice to stay alive. Twigs snapped beneath his boots as he delved deeper into the forest, trees so close together they nearly blocked the moon and stars from view. Aran could barely see a thing, relying more on his sense of touch as he felt around the trees. He hadn’t arrived with much of a plan, but he knew Méaróg would be able to sniff him out if he was in the forest. All he had to do was pray his brother hadn’t left him behind.

“ Shite! ” Aran yelped as he failed to notice a sudden drop, causing him to slip and fall on his ass.

A clicking sound nearby made him slap his hand over his mouth. He automatically assigned it to be a dragon sound, but he’d never actually seen any dragon other than Méaróg, and this definitely was not his brother. It sounded as if it had come from the creature’s throat and a shiver of fear ran through him. This was a wild dragon, the likes of which he’d never encountered before. An unfamiliar caw cut through the air and Aran was now able to see due to hot flames being shot at the ground. The fire looked absurdly hot, and Aran definitely wouldn’t want to be caught it in. A quiet warbling sound came from the dragon and it began sniffing the ground around the fire it seemed to have built.

Despite the heavy pounding of his heart, Aran let his curiosity get the better of him, creeping closer so he could properly see it. Under the warm light of the fire, he could see that it was bipedal and covered in spines. Its wings had a lovely pattern, and its beige underbelly was offset by its rich purple colouration. A curved horn came up from its nose, and its overbite paired with its stance gave it a somewhat birdlike appearance. There was something incredible about being so close to a wild creature, Aran thought.

“ Aren’t you just a beauty… ” He murmured, not entirely realizing he’d said that out loud until the dragon snapped its head in his direction. “ Oh, for Pete’s sake. ” Aran tensed, getting to his feet very slowly.

The dragon sniffed in his direction, getting closer to him. One of its feet stamped out the fire as it approached, making Aran blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness once more. It inhaled deeply as it stood in front of him and Aran felt the hairs on his head lift from the motion. He couldn’t bring himself to move and the dragon tilted its head to the side to look at him. Aran supposed that horn gave it a blindspot. He let out a shaky breath, brown eyes wide as he stared at its large yellow one. The dragon made a curious sort of sound as it backed away, sitting on its haunches. It tilted its head again, seeming surprisingly harmless for a creature of its size. Aran let his eyes wander across its hide, wishing he could see it in proper lighting.

“ I’ve never seen anything like you. ” Aran murmured, cautiously approaching the creature. “ You’re so purple, and… ” He glanced at its tail, where he’d seen a large amount of spines before. They seemed to have smoothed themselves down. “ Just, wow. How could anyone hurt something as magnificent as you? ” He asked, and the dragon trilled a little, somehow understanding the words Aran was saying as compliments. “ You’re beautiful. ”

A quiet growl left the creature’s throat as Aran placed his hand on its neck, and he caught sight of the reptile’s spines beginning to stand. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he began to give it what he hoped were comfortable scratches. It almost seemed to purr after a few moments and Aran saw the spines go down. He let himself smile, quietly continuing to compliment the dragon. Feeling a bit crazy, he asked if it had happened to see a weird, pink, near-blind dragon crashing about, but it didn’t seem to have any idea what he was talking about. Sighing a bit, Aran gave the dragon one last pat before continuing his walk into the forest.

He wondered if he should name that dragon. Aran barely knew how to read his own native language, so he had no idea what type of dragon that had been. He was sure he’d recognize it immediately if he saw one again, but he couldn’t exactly consult the Book of Dragons that Hiccup had mentioned earlier that day, because he couldn’t read Norse. Perhaps the book had pictures? Hiccup could probably read, actually. Perhaps if Aran described the dragon to him, he’d know what he was talking about. Maybe Stoick would be a better choice, though. Surely the chief of a village at war with dragons would know every type of dragon? The fact that he was fluent in Irish didn’t hurt either. Either way he went, he’d have to come up with a story of why he wanted to know about this specific type of dragon. He didn’t want Stoick getting suspicious of him, however, so perhaps he’d just wait until he could read to look it up on his own.

The only sounds to accompany his thoughts were the sounds of nature and twigs snapping beneath his feet. Aran rubbed his arms, shivering in the cold. He wondered how late it was and if Gothi was concerned about him. The trees had thinned out a bit, letting more starlight through the branches. He pulled his tin whistle out of his pouch and licked his lips before starting to play a slow melody. It was rather simple, but he wasn’t sure his fingers were quite warm enough to play anything more complex. He played a fun little rhythm and nearly choked when he heard the call of his brother in the distance. Aran played it again and heard a response once more. Determining the direction it had come from, he changed courses, forgetting his coldness.

“ Méaróg! ” Aran shouted, and the dragon called back to him, sounding closer than before.

When the two reunited it was at the edge of the woods, on the far side of the island with no houses in sight. Aran laughed, dropping down to hug his large head. The dragon jumped around a bit, knocking him over before flumping down on him, taking the air out of his lungs. He found it impossible to complain though, as he couldn’t stop laughing. Méaróg licked his face and Aran had to stop laughing because getting dragon saliva in one’s mouth is unpleasant. Even though he knew Méaróg wouldn’t be able to respond to him, he decided to recount everything that had happened to him since the two of them had been separated. He sat on his brother’s back as he walked along the edge of woods and Aran idly realized they were moving even further from town.

“ I have to go back, you know. ” Aran told him, not sure he’d understand. “ Back to town. I’m supposed to be staying with Elder Gothi. ” He elaborated, still unsure that his reptilian brother would understand.

Méaróg warbled sadly as he slowed his steps, coming to a halt.

“ I’ll come back for you. ” Aran said. “ I promise. ” He leaned down to kiss Méaróg’s forehead. “ I love you. ”

The dragon cooed at him, twisting his head to nudge Aran to the best of his ability. Aran idly noticed the damage that had been done to Méaróg’s saddle as he scratched his neck.

“ But you can’t come into town, yeah? They’ll kill you. ” Aran said firmly as Méaróg turned around, heading back towards the village. “ I’ve never been very good at reading maps, but maybe if I can figure out where we are, we can just leave and it’ll be like I was never here. ”

It was surprising to Aran that Méaróg made a sound of protest at that.

“ What is it? Have you made some dragon friends here? ” He asked, thinking back to that gorgeous purple dragon he’d seen earlier. It made him think of those exotic birds he’d only seen in drawings.

Méaróg’s steps gained some energy as he made what Aran could only assume was a sound of confirmation.

“ Well, I suppose we don’t have to leave just yet. ” Aran said, smiling down at his brother. There weren’t any dragons near Aran’s hometown. The beings were almost myths, until Méaróg came along, so Aran could only imagine his brother getting incredibly lonely without any of his own kind around.

Aran closed his eyes as the two of them continued on their way to town, a conversation between them that somehow managed not to feel one-sided. He got off his brother’s back, looking about cautiously before dismounting and leaving a kiss on his big, pale head. Aran took the damaged saddle off of him and watched Méaróg disappear into the woods before carefully scaling the rickety stairway leading to Gothi’s hut and having serious thoughts about reinforcing it and adding a railing. When he reached the old woman’s door, he noted that the fire was lit inside and he was met by her waiting for him with a rather unamused look. Aran smiled sheepishly, sending her an apology. She gestured for him to come closer, getting down from her stool and grabbing her staff. He directed his eyes towards the dirt as she began to write.

‘Keeping secrets?’

“ I- well, it’s… ” Aran hadn’t expect to be called out by Gothi of all people. Stoick? Oh, definitely. Hiccup? Maybe eventually.  _ Gothi? _ That caught him off guard.

‘You know I wouldn’t tell.’ She quirked a smile at him

“ You know, I never asked, do you understand everything I’m saying? ”

Gothi didn’t grace that question with her writing. She instead opted to smack him in the head with her staff.

“ Right, right, of course you do. ” Aran grumbled, nursing his head.

‘We don’t see dragons like yours up in these parts.’ Gothi wrote out, and Aran blinked several times, looking her in the eyes.

“ You saw…? ” Aran felt fear strike him, but the smile Gothi held eased all his nerves. “ But… ”

Gothi patted the dirt out, erasing her writing. She put a hand on Aran’s back and gestured for him to go to bed, and he did so without saying anything because he had no idea what Gothi thought of the information that he had a dragon. It hadn’t seemed negative or positive. She was like a strange little old lady finding the dealings of the young quite amusing. Aran realized she seemed that way because that was exactly what she was.

When he slept, he couldn’t remember his dreams, and he woke up to the sun shining through the open door. He got out of bed and wandered in that direction as a yawned, rubbing his eyes. Gothi was outside, preparing some sort of medicine. Aran watched over her shoulder until she shooed him away, causing him to pout rather childishly. Not completely sure whether he was to work in the forge with Hiccup and Gobber, or follow Chief Stoick around, he decided to wander about until he found one of the three.

Aran wound up spotting Stoick as he listened to an argument between two of the villagers. He waited for that interesting ordeal to be finished (there was a lot of yelling) before heading over. As he waited, he caught sight of a few people who seemed around his age, and wondered about them. There was no time to attempt introducing himself, however, because Stoick had settled whatever argument had been occuring. Aran called his attention, and Stoick seemed a bit confused for a moment before remembering he’d told Aran to follow him around to get a better understanding of the village, villagers, and language.

“ Right then, come along. I’ve got a busy schedule, but it’s not the worst I’ve seen. ” Stoick said.

Aran found himself looking about town curiously and Stoick translated anything he had questions about. By the time lunch came about, he’d expanded his vocabulary greatly, but was still struggling with grammar and stringing his words together. He caught sight of the kids (teens?) he’d spotted earlier and desperately wanted to introduce himself to them, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to get past saying his name. Looking at the chief, Aran decided he’d probably run his mouth too long that day and informed him he would spend the rest of the day in the forge with Hiccup and Gobber. Stoick tried not to look relieved, but Aran could tell his chattering had tired the man out a bit.

“Oooh, pointy.” Aran said as he entered the forge and nearly stepped on a knife discarded on the floor. He picked it up, inspecting the handle and categorizing it as one of Gobber’s creations. Hiccup liked to be a bit more intricate.

“Ah, sorry about that.” Gobber said, waddling over and plucking the knife out of their hand. “I was looking for my brush hand.” He dropped the knife somewhere precarious, and Hiccup came out from somewhere in the back of the forge to place it where it belonged.

“I am happy you find it.” Aran said, scrunching his nose up a little because he swore there was something wrong with that sentence. Gobber was brushing his mustache.

“Found.” Hiccup said, and Aran turned to look at him. “Instead of find.”

“ Ah, that sounds better, but why… ” Aran grumbled, wishing he didn’t have to learn an entire language to communicate with everyone on the island besides Stoick.

“It’s the past tense. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get it soon enough.” Hiccup said, returning to what he’d been doing before he’d come to move Gobber’s knife. Aran tried his best to mumble a translation to that sentence in Irish.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Aran asked, remembering that full sentence from Stoick. He’d asked how to say that before and he was pretty sure he said it right.

“Well, you can sharpen this here sword.” Gobber said, blindly tossing the sword at the boy without a bit of concern. Aran yelped.

“Gobber!” Hiccup scolded and Aran couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the young boy scolding someone nearly four times his age.

“What?” Gobber didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with throwing swords at people.

“No worry. I am okay.” Aran held up the sword for Hiccup to see.

Hiccup smiled at him a little and the three of them went about their work, idle chatter filling the smithy. There were fewer charades this time around and Aran was more capable of joining in on the ridiculous conversations that took place. His conversation skills increased each time Hiccup corrected his blunders, though his head was starting to hurt trying to remember all the new rules and vocabulary he’d learned that day.

By the time Gobber was closing up shop, Aran was mentally exhausted. He let out a very loud, very long groan as he stretched. Hiccup asked if he was okay and Aran only laughed in response. The two of them began walking in the same direction towards their respective sleeping spaces, chatting idly of different stories from their pasts. Hiccup spoke mainly of his time spent with Gobber in the forge, and Aran spoke mainly of his time spent with his parents on the farm. They reached the point where their paths split and Aran pulled the smaller teen into a hug without thinking too much of it. Hiccup tensed a bit, not accustomed to such human affection, but the hug was over before he knew it and Aran was waving goodbye.

The chief’s son waved back at his retreating figure, though Aran couldn’t see it as he’d already turned away. He yawned visibly and that was enough to make Hiccup remember his own exhaustion. Both teens went to their respective sleeping quarters, Aran deciding he could visit Méaróg the next day. He’d already climbed the stairs to Gothi’s hut by the time he’d remembered his promise to him and he supposed he hadn’t actually said he meant that day, had he? The Irish boy had a short conversation with Gothi, in which she critiqued his speaking skills and he grumbled about how her handwriting could be much neater. That earned a smack on the head and he complained about the brain damage he must be getting from her abuse. Gothi rolled her eyes, lips quirking in amusement as Aran laughed, glad she knew he was joking. He soon slipped into bed to let his poor brain rest, decided he didn’t feel like learning new words for a bit. His last thought before drifting to sleep was that he’d just spend the next day with Gothi. That way he didn’t have to try and remember how Norse worked. Norse is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll be updating again on Tuesday. I hope you're enjoying the fic if you've made it this far!


	6. The Nice Ones

Aran spent much of his time helping Chief Stoick with his chiefly duties (though he was quite aware that his help was generally only a small convenience for the man), or assisting Hiccup and Gobber in the forge. When his brain tired from the amount of Norse he was learning in such a short timeframe, he would visit Méaróg in the woods or retreat to Gothi’s hut. Having made a full recovery from his wounds, she was less intent on watching him to make sure he was healthy. She still watched him, of course. Just not as insistently.

No changes had yet been made to his living situation, so he was still staying with the old woman. The two had formed an odd sort of bond. He’d taken it upon himself to tidy up around her hut and make her home more comfortable. It was astonishing to him that a woman of her age was living by herself. In the time he’d been staying with her, Aran had gone about replacing Gothi’s old, worn, uncomfortable chairs, tables, and  beds with higher quality counterparts. She’d been furious with him at first, but later admitted that perhaps the new bed would be better for her back. Aran also found himself taking charge of cooking for both of them, or at the very least bringing her food from the Great Hall. Over various meals and hours of him observing her medicinal practices, he’d spilled his entire life story to her. This was with full confidence that she could not or would not tell anyone of it, of course. The thought of Stoick discovering Méaróg was terrifying to Aran, and he hoped it would never happen.

Despite living in Hooligan Village for nearly two months, Aran had yet to meet the others he presumed to be around his age. This was in part due to him waiting until he was fluent in Norse. He supposed he probably was, by that point. Another issue was perhaps the stories Hiccup had shared with him as they worked in the forge, or ate lunch together. Stories of how his cousin Snotlout Jorgenson pushed him around or how the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, liked to make him (and a kind looking boy named Fishlegs Ingerman) the victim of their pranks. Hiccup had no rotten stories to tell of Fishlegs, but he had no positive ones either, as the large boy never seemed to interact with him. Another who spent little time around Hiccup was one Astrid Hofferson. Aran had realized early on that perhaps Hiccup was a bit lacking in the friend department. Thinking on it made him think of his own lack of friends back home. He felt sad on Hiccup’s behalf, but did nothing to let him know.

All Hiccup seemed to have (in terms of friends) before Aran came along was Gobber. Most of the villagers looked at him with disappointment and wariness, and his peers were none too kind to him. His father barely gave him the time of day, so busy he was with the war against dragons, and his mother, well… Aran had thought it rude to ask Hiccup himself, but Gobber told him she’d been carried away by a dragon thirteen years ago, when Hiccup wasn’t even a full year of age. Gobber described Valka Haddock as a gentle soul, but headstrong. He called her insane for trying to get people to leave the dragons be. Aran regretted not being able to have met her.

His own mother would have likely gotten along with Valka. He wished he could see her again. He missed his home and his parents quite terribly. The very thought of flying again filled him with fear, however, and Chief Stoick had not a single boat to spare for a fifteen year old boy who didn’t know how to sail. Even if he could wrap his mind around how maps work, he had no method of transportation, and one of the first things Chief Stoick had told him upon arriving on Berk was the fact that Ireland was quite far away. It was frustrating, though he placated himself by saying he had about as many friends in Hooligan Village that he did back home. It was a sad thought. Perhaps that sad thought was the reason he empathized with Hiccup so well.

And perhaps it was one of the reasons he was still nervous to meet the other teens. He’d lost nearly all his friends two years prior, when they discovered he wasn’t born male. The only one he’d stayed even the slightest bit close to was a boy who was a year older than him, named Finn. Finn had confided in him of his ‘sinful’ (as he described it) interest in other boys as well as girls. Perhaps this was one of the reasons he didn’t cut his ties with Aran. At the time, Aran hadn’t been interested in boys or girls, but now he thought he probably liked both as well. Having Finn as his only friend was sad regardless, however, and Finn had other friends. Aran wound up spending most of his time with Méaróg.

The falling out Aran had with his old friends made him fear the thought of this new group of potential friends finding out about him. He wondered what would happen if Hiccup discovered the true state of his body. Would he be disgusted? Would he even care? Aran wished he didn’t have secrets to keep. He had to keep his body a secret. He had to keep his brother a secret. It was awful. He was grateful for Gothi, and wondered why she seemed so lenient in her stance towards dragons. Aran once asked her this, and she responded by clearing her throat and uttering something sounding like a foreign language, though Aran could not think of a single language that involved shrill shrieks and popping noises and other such sounds that are both extraordinary and terrifying when spoken by a human. He would later wonder if he’d imagined that occurrence, as he’d been quite sure Gothi was mute and he never heard her utter such sounds again.

It was after residing on Berk for nearly three months that Aran properly met Astrid Hofferson. He’d heard about her from the four people on the island he actually interacted with, but he’d never crossed paths with her before. All he’d been doing that day was sitting around in the forge with a knife and a piece of wood. Hiccup was off doing whatever it is he does when he’s alone, and Gobber was off doing… well, Aran didn’t know what he was doing either. It left the forge empty, and while there was no real reason for him to hang around there, he’d already left Gothi’s hut and he didn’t want to walk up the rickety stairs to get back. He also didn’t want to find Méaróg in the woods, so he wound up in the forge.

The piece of wood and the knife were things he’d found lying around the forge, and he decided to try his hand at whittling. So far, he wasn’t very successful. All he could think of making was a wooden flute (much like his tin whistle), but he was having little luck. He’d actually nicked his fingers multiple times. Perhaps he should give up, he thought. Unfortunately, he’d left his bag by his bed that morning, and couldn’t draw or play his music. Not wanting to accidentally chop a finger off, Aran got up to throw the wood out and put the knife away. Afterwards, he idly sucked his bleeding finger as he inspected the weapons in the forge, re-organizing and tidying up here and there. He hummed to himself, not thinking of anything in particular. His solitude was interrupted by a feminine voice.

“Hello?” She called out, standing in the entrance of the forge. “Is anybody here?” Astrid looked around, not spotting Aran standing towards the back.

“Do I count as anybody?” Aran asked, walking over to her. He was only a half inch taller than her, and he wondered if she would outgrow him. “Er, somebody?” Aran thought that was the better word to use, but he wasn’t completely sure about that.

“...” Astrid inspected him, her thin brows furrowed. She was carrying a rather old looking axe. “I’ve seen you around before.” She said after a moment of silence between them. Aran nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been… around for three months maybe.” He said, idly wondering how heavy his accent was. “I haven’t met many people in town though.” Aran told her, his lips quirking up into a warm smile.

“Why not?” She tilted her head a little, her eyebrows still scrunched up as she scrutinized him. Aran supposed her curiosity was natural. She’d never properly met him before, after all.

“Well, there are a few reasons.” He said vaguely. “My name’s Aran Ó Deoráin.” Aran held his hand out to shake hers.

“Astrid Hofferson.” Astrid said, eyeing his hand before taking it. Her skin was rougher than he’d been expecting, and though her hand was smaller in his, her grip was strong.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Aran said, and the handshake ended shortly. “Did you want your axe sharpened?” He asked, gesturing toward the weapon.

“Well, yeah, but Gobber isn’t here.” Astrid looked at her axe, running her finger along the edge. It wasn’t sharp enough for her to cut herself by mistake.

“I could take care of that.” Aran told her. “I’ve been helping out around here.”

“Your hand is bleeding.” Astrid pointed out, not fully trusting his abilities.

“Yeah, but that was because I don’t know how to…” It occurred to Aran that he didn’t know the Norse word for whittling, as that hadn’t been a word he thought he’d be needing in his usual vocabulary. “It had nothing to do with forge things, I swear.”

“Well, alright then…” Astrid said slowly, taking a moment to decide whether or not to believe him. “Where are you from?”

“Ireland.” Aran smiled a little sadly. “Anyways, you wanted your axe sharpened? I could polish it a bit too. It looks kind of old.” He took his apron from where it was hanging and slipped it over his head before tying the string behind his back.

“Yeah, it is. My mom gave it to me.” Astrid looked up from her axe to meet Aran’s eyes, smiling. “Be careful with it.” He felt like the smile was directed at the axe rather than him, despite the eye contact.

Aran took the axe from her, a little surprised by its weight. He slipped his gloves on before going about sharpening it. There was no real reason for him to wear the gloves, but he would prefer to avoid calluses. He liked having soft hands. Ironic, when one considered he would have become a farmer if he were still with his parents. Astrid watched him carefully, and he focused on his task. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the blade and cause her to hate him for destroying her mother’s axe. After he finished sharpening it, he began to clean the blade. Aran asked her if she wanted him to redo the finish on the handle, and she agreed. He wondered if she knew exactly what he meant by that, but he said nothing of it. After a long while, he finished with the axe, handing it back to her.

“Wow.” She held it by the handle, turning it about to inspect it from several different angles. “Thanks.”

“Don’t touch the metal.” Aran said quickly, grabbing her wrist as she reached to do just that. Astrid stared at him. “That’ll make it rust faster.” He’d learned that from Hiccup at some point.

“Oh. Thanks again.” She smiled, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t expect that to take so long.” Astrid said, noting with a frown that it was around midday.

“Well, it wouldn’t have if I’d just sharpened it like you asked.” Aran laughed, tidying up his workspace. There were wood shavings on the floor. “It’s about lunchtime, yeah?”

“I was hoping I could get in some training before lunch, but yeah.” Astrid nodded, frowning a little.

“Training for what?” Aran asked as he swept the shavings outside, not bothering to put the proper effort into disposing them. He removed his apron when he noticed Astrid seemed to be waiting for him.

“Well, my mom says the official dragon training won’t start for another couple years, but when it finally does, I wanna be ready.” Astrid swung her axe, fire in her eyes. Aran tensed.

“Oh yeah.” He bit his lip. “Careful with that, we don’t wanna break anything in here.” Aran said, not commenting on the whole dragon training business.

“Come on, let’s go get lunch.” Astrid said, and Aran followed her out of the forge.

“You do anything besides training to kill dragons?” Aran asked as they walked side by side.

“I guess I help my parents out with chores.” Astrid shrugged.

“Sounds kinda boring.” Aran commented. “I used to help my parents out on the farm back home.” He smiled a little. “My brother and I both did.”

“Your brother?” Astrid tilted her head, glancing at him.

“Yeah.” Aran sighed. “I don’t know where he is now. We were on a boat together, but we got caught in a storm and I woke up here.” It was a rehearsed half-truth.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Astrid frowned, but she looked as if she didn’t know what to do with that information. Aran didn’t blame her.

“It’s alright.” He waved her sympathy off, mainly because he didn’t actually care. He knew exactly where his brother was. “You should really find some hobbies though. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t do anything but work, work, work.”

“Maybe I’ll take up whittling.” Astrid shrugged. Aran realized that was the word he couldn’t think of earlier.

They reached the Great Hall, and Aran realized he was probably about to meet the rest of the teens. His heart rate spiked, and he fiddled with his hair a bit. Aran found himself sweating a bit as they entered the hall, the heat from the fire mixing with his nerves. Meeting Astrid alone was one thing, but the idea of a larger group was a bit intimidating and he wondered where Hiccup was. Him and Astrid both grabbed plates of food before making their way over to a table. Already seated at the table was Fishlegs, and Aran thought perhaps his anxiety was unwarranted.

“So, who’ve you actually met on Berk?” Astrid asked him.

“Only you, Chief Stoick, Elder Gothi, Mister Gobber, and Hiccup.” Aran listed. He thought he saw Astrid’s mouth twitch and wondered if he should go about leaving the titles off in the future. Fishlegs glanced over at the two of them from a book he’d been reading. The plate in front of him was half-eaten.

“Well, this is Fishlegs.” Astrid provided, though Aran had already known that.

“Ingerman.” Fishlegs smiled broadly. “I’ve seen you around town, but we’ve never really talked. What’s your name?”

“Aran Ó Deoráin.” Aran told him. “I’ve been around for a few months now. What’s that you’re reading?”

“It’s the Book of Dragons! There’s all kinds of crazy facts in here about dragons that never even attack Berk, like, there’s this one that shoots boiling hot water at its victims, and this one buries itself in the sand for like a week, and-”

“What’s that one called?” Aran interrupted him, thinking of Méaróg.

“The sand one?” Fishlegs asked, and Aran nodded. “That one’s called the sand wraith.” He said. “It’s like, two-thousand pounds and it hides in the sand until some unwitting viking steps into its path then BAM!” Fishlegs slapped his hands together. “It snatches him.”

“That sounds… interesting.” Aran stated, trying not to betray any emotion. He had to admit, Méaróg did like to hide in the sand on the beach and catch him unaware, but he never caused any real harm.

“Yeah, you wanna see?” The grin never left Fishlegs’s face as he pushed the Dragon Manual in Aran’s direction.

“Oh wow, that’s a lot of lines.” Aran blinked, getting momentarily distracted by the words on the page. The drawing definitely looked like Méaróg, but the stripes on the wings weren’t present, and it was coloured in a shade of brown. “Do you think there are any different kinds of this sand wraith?” Aran asked, wishing he could read the runes.

“Well, I think there’s supposed to be a desert wraith and a sweet wraith too. Those ones are pink.” Fishlegs said, taking the book back. “The book doesn’t say much about them otherwise though.”

“What kind of pink?”

“The desert wraith is really pale with like, stripes on its wings and the sweet wraith is bright pink. Legend has it that any Viking who survives a sweet wraith attack will fall in love with the next person they see!” Fishlegs exclaimed before adjusting his helmet. “I sure wouldn’t wanna run into one of them. What if I fell in love with Gobber?” He shuddered a little, and the three of them laughed.

“What about the desert wraith?” Aran asked.

“It doesn’t really say much about that one. You don’t usually find them up North here in the archipelago.” Fishlegs said. Aran just nodded.

“Why do you care so much about the desert wraith?” Astrid asked Aran, her eyebrows drawing closer to her eyes.

“I thought I might’ve seen one once.” Aran said. “I could be wrong though.”

The three of them continued to eat their food, the topic of conversation staying on that of dragons. When Aran revealed he couldn’t read, Fishlegs was so shocked that he immediately began trying to teach him. Aran found himself unable to say no to Fishlegs’s ecstatic face, though he did shoot Astrid a pleading look. She merely smiled at him, enjoying the show. It wasn’t that Aran didn’t want to learn how to read, he simply hadn’t been anticipating such a lesson and already had a hard enough time trying to read his native tongue. The large boy left briefly to get a piece of parchment and some sort of writing utensil before returning and writing out the Viking alphabet for Aran. Aran smiled uncomfortably, not liking the look of the weird lines.

“If I promise to practice, can we stop this lesson?” Aran pleaded.

“Alright…” Fishlegs relented. “If you don’t read or fight, what do you do for fun?” He asked.

“Mostly drawing and playing music. I have a tin whistle from home.” Aran said.

“Wow, really?” Fishlegs gasped. “Can I see some of your art?”

“Maybe some other time. I left my journal at home.” Aran said, smiling at him. Fishlegs seemed eager about everything, and Aran found it endearing.

“I’ve never heard a tin whistle before.” Astrid commented.

“And maybe I’ll play that for you sometime too, but I also left that at home.” Aran laughed as he pocketed the Viking alphabet. “I should probably go bring some food to Gothi now. I’ll see you guys around, feel free to drop by the forge if I’m in there.”

“Bye Aran!”

“Thanks for the axe.”

Aran waved goodbye to the two of them as he went to get food for Gothi. Meeting the two of them had put him in a rather good mood, and they seemed rather nice. He thought Hiccup would probably get on with Fishlegs and wondered why the two of them didn’t interact much. Astrid, on the other hand… Well, Aran could see why the fiercest Viking warrior in the making didn’t want to hang out with the scrawny blacksmith who could barely carry an axe, even if he  _ was _ the chief’s son. She seemed nice enough, though he supposed there were likely sides to her he hadn’t seen yet. Fishlegs was easier to understand. He was a nerd, a bit meek, and easily excited. The two of them were pleasant to be around, though Aran did realize they were the two Hiccup had said didn’t give him a hard time. Perhaps he’d just gotten lucky in meeting the nice ones first, but he hoped Snotlout and the twins weren’t as bad as Hiccup made them out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this out earlier today, so sorry about that... I haven't felt motivated to do much of anything lately because my depression spiked thanks to me being trans and running out of testosterone. Hopefully I'll get my prescription renewed soon though, it's been like 2 weeks since my last shot and I'm supposed to do them weekly.  
> On another note, I don't really know how long this fanfic is going to be, but I will be covering all 3 movies (I'll definitely still be working on it by the time the third one finally comes out) and an undetermined amount of the TV show.  
> This isn't my first fanfic, but it is the first one I'm really seriously posting here on Ao3, so I'd love it if you guys could give me any kind of feedback, and I wanna thank that Random Guest who gave me my first kudos :') I'm like a baby on this website


	7. The Not Quite as Nice Ones

As Aran grew more and more fluent in Norse, he spent less and less time assisting Chief Stoick. His newfound freetime was instead used on getting to know everyone in town. As such, it only took a few days for him to meet the Thorston twins. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were in the midst of pulling some sort of prank on Snotlout, who seemed to be listening to his father complain about how differently he’d run town if he were chief. The thought of Chief Spitelout was a somewhat frightening bit of business, as Aran already had his fair share of dealings with the man in his time assisting Chief Stoick. Aran cleared his throat from behind the two of them.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” He asked innocently, amused when they attempted to hide whatever ‘that’ was behind their backs.

“I mean, y’know, it’s just uhh…” Tuffnut sent a look to his sister, biting his lip and furrowing his brows.

“Tea! For some, uhh… nice old ladies!” Ruffnut grinned unconvincingly.

“Oh, really? I didn’t know there was a tea that smelled like fish.” Aran commented, deciding to play along.

“That’s ‘cuz this stuff is like, super hard to get. You have no idea how much we had to haggle Trader Johann for a decent price on this thing, and I still spent all of Ruffnut’s life savings.”

“ _ My _ life savings? No way, I used  _ your _ life savings!” Ruffnut shouted, rounding on her brother.

“Like I’d ever let you use my hypothetical life savings on hypothetical tea for hypothetical old women!” Tuffnut responded in kind, slamming his head against his sister’s.

“Looks more like fish grease to me.” Aran commented, leaning over to inspect the cups the twins had forgotten to keep hidden behind their backs. “If you wanted to use that on Snotlout somehow, it looks like him and his dad are leaving.”

The Thorston twins looked at Aran, their cups, and each other, before dashing off without another word. It wasn’t until late in the day that Aran received the opportunity to properly introduce himself to them. They appeared to be scheming together (though Tuffnut was doing most of the talking) at an isolated table in the Great Hall during dinner. Snotlout was nearby, watching them warily. Aran thought he looked a bit greasy. He approached the twins table to introduce himself, though he proceeded to turn around and sit next to Snotlout afterwards. Aran pulled his hair out of his face as he sat down, mildly annoyed that his leather strap had snapped that morning. Snotlout inspected him from the corner of his eye before leaning on his elbow.

“I wouldn’t hang out with those two if I were you, babe.” He said, a smirk on his face before the grease caused his cheek to slip from his palm, his face nearly colliding with the table. Aran stared at him momentarily.

“Why not?” He asked, adjusting his hair. Internally, he was questioning what the last word Snotlout had said was, but he didn’t want to look stupid in front of someone he’d just met. He was sure he’d figure it out sooner or later.

“Well, they’re nothing but trouble, you know what I’m saying? A pretty thing like you needs a macho man like a Jorgenson around.” Snotlout said with a wink, pretending he hadn’t nearly smacked his face into the table a few moments ago. Aran looked around.

“Are you sure you’re talking to me?” He asked, somewhat confused by the vibes he was getting. Unless he was reading the situation wrong, which he doubted.

“Uh duh. Who else would I be talking to?”

“I don’t know. A girl?”

Neither of them spoke for a while as Snotlout’s eye’s flicked down to Aran’s chest, noting its definite flatness. The Jorgenson boy’s face slowly turned a dark shade of crimson as he realized his mistake. Aran sat with his brows furrowed, pulling his hair to one side and chewing on his fleshy lower lip. He stared down at his plate before taking his cup of water and drinking from it. Snotlout cleared his throat after a long few minutes, holding out his hand for a shake without looking at Aran.

“Snotlout Jorgenson.” He said bluntly.

“Aran Ó Deoráin.” Aran responded in what he could only hope was a friendly tone. Despite that unpleasant moment that made his heart clench in fear, he hoped the rest of their interaction would be pleasant. “I’m from Ireland.”

“Are all guys from Ireland as girly as you?” Snotlout asked, not noticing the way Aran’s shoulders locked up.

“I may not look like much, but I like to think I’m pretty strong.” Aran said, taking a bite of whatever meat he’d grabbed earlier. He thought it was mutton, but he wasn’t completely sure.

“Well, as much as I’d love to prove you wrong the Jorgenson way, I’ve got tons of extremely important things to do later so it’ll have to wait.” Snotlout claimed, and Aran noted that he was almost done with his food.

“Should I assume the Jorgenson way is a very ‘macho’ fight to the death?” Aran asked, lips pulled up into an amused smile, but Snotlout’s answer was interrupted before it even began.

“Snotlout! Your mother needs you!” Called out Spitelout Jorgenson’s voice. Snotlout groaned.

“Ugh, I bet she needs help with my stupid baby sister.” He huffed, standing up and shoving the last of the food into his mouth before picking up the plate.

“We can fight to the death later then.” Aran saigh lightly. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even spare you.”

“Oh please, if anything-”

“Snotlout!” Spitelout sounded frustrated, and Aran saw the younger boy’s face contract with fear.

“See ya…”

Snotlout left as quickly as he was able, and Aran wondered what was going on with him. He shrugged it off to the best of his ability, fidgeting with his hair as he continued eating his food. His foot bounced restlessly under the table, and he wished he had a mirror. That had been the first time anyone had ever flirted with him and the circumstance made him uncomfortable, to say the least. Him thinking Aran had been female only made things worse and Aran desperately wished he had anything to tie his hair back with. Lacking such materials, he simply used his left hand to bunch his hair up for the time being. He would find a string or bit of leather when he stopped by the forge or got back to Gothi’s hut. Whichever came first.

Aran didn’t look up from his half-finished food, having lost his appetite. He was vaguely aware of someone sitting beside him, but he hadn’t bothered to look up. All he could think of was that perhaps his face was rounder than he thought it was, his eyelashes a bit too long and his lips a bit too full. Perhaps his voice was softer and more feminine than he’d been hearing it as, and perhaps his figure was too curvy. If Snotlout thought he looked weak, did that apply to everyone else as well? Aran ran his hand through his hair, taking care to detangle a few knots his freckled fingers came across.

“You, uhh, let your hair down.” A familiar nasally voice said.

“My hair tie broke.” Aran responded, still not looking at him. “I hate it.”

“I mean, I think it looks pretty nice…”

“No it doesn’t.” He said, his voice harsher than he’d intended.

“Aran…?”

“…” Aran sighed, rubbing his face and letting his hair go. His scalp would’ve thanked him, had it been a sentient being. “Sorry, Hiccup.”

“Did something happen?” Hiccup asked, and Aran glanced over at him. He was holding his hands strangely.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Aran said, forcing a soft smile and pulling his hair to be entirely over one shoulder, away from Hiccup. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Ah, I mean, uhh, not really…” Hiccup mumbled, looking away from Aran.

“Why didn’t you get food?” Aran pushed his plate towards Hiccup, not believing him. It’s not like he wanted to finish it anyways.

“I… I don’t know.” He lied, wincing a little when he pulled the plate closer.

Aran reached out to grab hold of Hiccup’s right wrist, making him face his palm up. The younger boy’s hands were scraped, and beads of blood mingled with dirt. Hiccup looked away, and Aran didn’t need to look to know the other hand was in the same condition. He sighed, standing up from his seat and gesturing for Hiccup to do the same. The twins were still scheming at the table they’d claimed, and the two were going through quite a lot of food, so Aran handed them his leftovers before guiding Hiccup out of the hall. The two of them went to a well, where Aran drew half a bucket of water (they likely wouldn’t even need that much) before going up to Gothi’s hut.

They walked without saying anything, the sounds of nature and distant noise of the town floating up through the dark night sky. Stars shone weakly above, the moon making their light look insignificant. Aran wasn’t completely sure where Gothi was when he lit the candles and he didn’t spot her anywhere in the hut, but he ignored that as he directed Hiccup to sit on a stool. He went about getting a cloth and a weak salve he’d learned to make in his time spent with Gothi as Hiccup sat on the chair, lightly kicking his feet back and forth for something to do. Aran soaked the cloth in water as he held Hiccup’s hand, then gently dabbed at it to remove the dirt and blood. He did the same with the other hand before applying the salve, ignoring the quiet hiss of pain Hiccup released. Though it wasn’t completely necessary, Aran wrapped Hiccup’s hands in bandages. He’d probably be removing them by tomorrow morning, but that didn’t matter to Aran.

“What happened?” Aran asked after he finished. He began to clean up the supplies he’d gotten out.

“Well, you know me, clumsy as always. I, umm, I kinda fell on my way to the Great Hall, just uhh, tripped- tripped right over my own big feet.” Hiccup smiled, somewhat unconvincingly. Aran frowned, somewhat unconvinced.

“Really.”

“... It was Snotlout.” Hiccup sighed, standing from the stool. Aran sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him as an invitation to sit. He did so.

“Did he push you?” Aran asked, glancing down at Hiccup’s hands as he clenched and unclenched them.

“Yeah, we were at the bottom of the stairs to the Great Hall.” Hiccup said. “He didn’t even say anything to me this time, he just shoved me like I was some- some annoying moth or something. I guess I’m just glad he didn’t push me down the stairs.”

“I think he was already in a bad mood before he left the hall. The twins covered him in fish grease, he flirted with a guy he thought was a girl, and then his dad made him go help his mum with his baby sister.” Aran said, tactfully avoiding that he was the guy Snotlout was flirting with as he found a string to tie his hair back with.

“... I forgot about Adelaide.” Hiccup said quietly as he rubbed one of his eyes. “It’s weird to have such a young cousin. Most of them are older than me except Snotlout.”

“I don’t think I have any cousins. It was always just my mum, dad, brother, and I.” Aran told Hiccup. “I almost had a baby sister, but she was a miscarriage. I’m glad my mum’s still alive though.”

“I’m sorry.” Hiccup said, and Aran shook his head.

“It happens. Her name was Deirdre.” Aran hadn’t thought of Deirdre in quite some time. He probably wouldn’t do it again for a long while.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’d have any younger siblings. Y’know, if my mom were still around.” Hiccup told him. Aran laughed softly.

“Big brother Hiccup.” He said.

“I’d be a pretty bad big brother.” Hiccup also laughed.

“I’m not a very good big brother either.” Aran admitted. If he were, well, he probably wouldn’t have wound up on Berk in the first place. Hiccup suppressed a yawn. “Falling asleep?” Aran asked.

“‘M not trying to…” Hiccup mumbled.

“How about I sing to you?” Aran asked. It would probably only serve to make Hiccup enter dreamland sooner, but the talk of big brothers made Aran miss singing to Méaróg every night.

“Alright…” Hiccup yawned again.

“My voice is a little high.” Aran told him before humming a bit, wanting to get the pitches right before he sang.

“Mmm…”

“ Idir ann is idir as

Idir thuaidh is idir theas

Idir thiar is idir thoir

Idir am is idir áit… ”

Hiccup’s eyes slid shut as Aran sang, and he leaned against his older friend without meaning to. Aran ran his fingers through Hiccup’s soft brown locks as he continued the song.

“ Casann sí dhom

Amhrán na farraige

Suaimhneach nó ciúin

Ag cuardú go damanta

Mo ghrá… ”

Aran shifted so his arm was around Hiccup, feeling protective of this thin boy who seemed unable to stand up for himself.

“ Idir gaoth is idir tonn

Idir tuilleadh is idir gann

Casann sí dhom

Amhrán na Farraige

Suaimhneach nó ciúin

Ag cuardú go damanta… ”

Aran brushed Hiccup’s bangs from his face, idly realizing his even breathing meant he’d fallen asleep. He decided to finish the song for himself.

“ Idir cósta, idir cléibh

Idir mé is idir mé féin

Tá mé i dtiúin. ”

With the chief’s son asleep, he supposed it would be smart to take him to his home. It was with mild regret that he hoisted Hiccup onto his back, and only because he hadn’t gotten the chance to cook him dinner. Aran carefully walked down the precarious steps leading from Gothi’s hut to ground level, thinking he really needed to get around to fixing those. He continued on his way to Stoick’s house, his mind pleasantly idle as he thought of only the crisp night air on his skin. The chief didn’t seem to be home, so Aran let himself in, glancing around. He’d never actually been inside the Haddock house, and though he was curious, he felt it unwise to snoop. The boy’s bedroom was likely upstairs, so he carried him up and used his foot to push the first door he saw open.

Well, Aran didn’t think Hiccup lived in a closet, so he made a mental note to close that properly when he had free hands. Rolling his eyes, Aran made his way towards the next door he saw. This one luckily led to a bedroom, and judging by the size of the bed, it probably wasn’t Chief Stoick’s. He set Hiccup down in the bed and tucked him in, looking about the room before shaking himself as a reminder not to snoop. The last thing Aran did before leaving the room was smooth Hiccup’s hair down.

“ Goodnight, Hiccup. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aran doesn't think Hiccup lives in a closet but he's wrong, Hiccup is closeted even to himself.  
> Anyways, the song Aran sings is from Song of the Sea because I just think that's such a gorgeous movie, and everyone should go watch it. Lisa Hannigan's (the woman who sings Amhran na Farraige) voice is actually deeper than I imagine Aran's singing voice, but If you wanna listen to the song (and really you should, it's a pretty song), here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FkiHtTO-mk  
> The singing voice I actually imagine Aran having is the woman in Celtic Woman's recording of Dulaman (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLJmyUkJquU)  
> None of that is super important of course, but they're nice songs to listen to! I love Irish/Celtic music.
> 
> Anyways, I haven't actually been writing much at all because my depression is kicking my ass but I have enough chapters already written out for 5 more weeks of updates so hopefully I'll get my testosterone prescription renewed and get back on T and get better before those 5 weeks are up.


	8. Stairs Are Important

After remembering to close the closet door, Aran left the Haddock household. He ran into Chief Stoick on his way home, and the two exchanged a simple greeting before continuing on their respective ways. The Irish teen looked towards each house as he walked, wondering which house Snotlout was currently in, helping his mother with his baby sister. As he climbed the rickety stairs back up to Gothi’s hut he made plans to reinforce them in the near future. The old woman had returned home in the time Aran had been gone and was currently brewing some sort of concoction. When he asked her what it was she left a quick scribble in the dirt explaining it was to help Mrs. Hofferson overcome her sleep troubles. Aran offered to take it to the woman when Gothi was finished. Gothi only nodded. When she finished she wrote out instructions on a slip of paper.

Soon, Aran was treading down the stairs once more, concoction and paper in hand. He made his way to the Hofferson household, knocking on the door. Astrid answered, looking at him in surprise. Aran offered her a smile and explained he was delivering a drink to aid her mother in her sleep. The blonde girl nodded, taking the items from him and thanking him. She glanced around before handing him a juicy red apple in some form of payment, and Aran returned to Gothi. The old woman was sitting in her bed, writing in an old journal. Aran wordlessly boiled a small amount of tea. It was only enough for a single cup, though Aran doubted that would be a problem. He set it on the table beside her before heading to his own bed. She didn’t thank him, but he saw her sipping it in the short moments before he fell asleep.

The next day, Aran sought out Gobber and asked where he could find the materials he would need to work on a staircase. Upon receiving his answer, the Irish teen set about gathering these materials. He’d already been thinking about the way he would go about repairing the stairs to Gothi’s hut, so it was only a matter of putting his plan into action. Aran worked for hours, only stopping to take a break for lunch when Hiccup approached him with food. Seeing his friend reminded him of the previous night, and he dashed up the stairs (he’d started his repairs from the bottom) to pick up the apple he hadn’t eaten. He handed Hiccup the apple when he returned to him, and they sat on the second step from the ground.

“How long’ve you been out here?” Hiccup asked, shining the apple with his sleeve before taking a bite. Aran assumed it was a good apple.

“I’ve been up since dawn, but I didn’t start on the stairs for an hour while I was getting all the wood and stuff.” Aran told him as he bit into a chicken leg.

“You need any help?”

“Not really, but thanks for offering.” Aran smiled. “Your hands feel okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for last night.” Hiccup looked away, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He clenched his right hand into a fist before stretching it out. The fact that he hadn’t removed the bandages yet surprised Aran.

“I meant to cook you dinner too, but you fell asleep.” Aran said lightly. “I guess I owe you, huh?”

“Ah, you don’t owe me anything.” Hiccup said, dull green eyes meeting Aran’s warm brown ones. The younger teen graced him with a smile that was barely there, but shone through his eyes. It made them look like lush forests teeming with life for a brief moment.

“Well, I don’t think you eat enough, so I still want to cook for you sometime.” Aran said, and the conversation went on pleasantly.

It was a rare sunny day on the Isle of Berk and Aran took the opportunity to remove his thick, fur-lined jacket. Back in Ireland he’d never had to wear so many layers but since coming to Hooligan Village, he’d found himself wearing three. The straps of his dark undershirt were visible, though his thicker beige tunic left his freckled shoulders exposed. His bangs had been pulled back into his ponytail so they wouldn’t stick to his forehead as he worked. It hadn’t occurred to him until after Hiccup joined him that he was sweating. It was worth it though. He’d made decent progress on Gothi’s stairs. Well, he supposed they were his stairs as well. There had been no talk of him moving out.

Hiccup stayed to keep him company as Aran got back to work. The two of them spoke of various types of dragons, most of which Hiccup only knew from the dragon raids. Though him and Fishlegs were both more intellectual than one would expect from a viking, it was clear their interests lie in different subjects. Nonetheless, it gave Aran more insight on the types of dragons that usually attacked the island. He learned of deadly nadder, covered in sharp, poisonous spines and possessing extremely hot fire breath. The gronckle had tough skin, and could shoot boiling lava at its targets. Hideous zipplebacks had two heads; one to spew flammable gas and the other to ignite it. Monstrous nightmares were huge, heavy things full of anger and the ability to set themselves on fire. Aran shuddered at the descriptions, nearly hitting his hand with the hammer he’d been using.

“Why don’t you guys just leave?” He asked.

“Eh, we’re vikings. We have stubbornness issues.” Hiccup shrugged, as if the thought of leaving the island wasn’t anything to bother considering.

“So, all of these dragons just steal your food, that’s it?” Aran asked.

“Well, that and they set all our buildings on fire. There are families that have to sleep in the Great Hall because their houses still haven’t been rebuilt.”

“Oh…” Aran frowned, wishing he knew why the wild dragons would behave so violently. Didn’t they have other sources of food? He knew Méaróg lived on fish.

“Those aren’t even the worst of them.” Hiccup said, and Aran’s thick eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be attacked by something that can set itself on fire.” Aran said, but Hiccup shook his head.

“No, the nightmare is nothing compared to the night fury.” Hiccup said.

“Night fury?”

“This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and never misses. No one has ever killed a night fury.” Hiccup clenched is hands. “I want to be the first.”

“How are you supposed to hit something you can’t see?” Aran asked, and the fire in Hiccup’s eyes died out.

“I… I don’t know. I guess it’s just a dream.” He sighed.

“Hey, don’t give up just like that.” Aran said, looking up from his work at Hiccup. “Maybe you’ll get one of your inventions working and you’ll be able to snag one.” He smiled, and Hiccup smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Maybe.”

“You never showed me any of those, you know.” Aran said.

“Ah, well, they aren’t very good. Most of them don’t even make it off the paper. I’ve been working on one lately, though.” Hiccup mumbled the last part, as if he didn’t want to be heard.

“What’s that one do?” Aran asked, instead of letting the sentence go unanswered.

“Well, it’s supposed to shoot out a net to catch a dragon while it’s in the air so it can’t fly anymore.” Hiccup explained, his voice above the white noise of the town bustle and nature. “I can’t get the nets to shoot out right, though. They always get tangled, and it’s a hassle to reload it.” Hiccup sighed.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out if you keep trying.” Aran smiled at him. “Just don’t give up, okay? Giving up won’t get anything done.”

Hiccup nodded, and they were quiet for a moment, Aran’s ears filling with the sound of nails hammering into wood. He didn’t exactly want to encourage any dragon-killing behavior, but he didn’t want Hiccup to lose the little faith he had in himself either. The chief’s son left after a quiet while of brainstorming. Aran continued to work on the stairs, deciding to stop when the sun began to set. He stood and stretched his body out, taking in a deep breath and carefully walking up the less sturdy half of the stairs to retrieve his jacket from where he’d left it earlier. The sun had already set by the time he’d pulled his jacket back on, and he debated whether or not to go spend time with Méaróg. He was exhausted, but he missed his brother. After a short moment, he grabbed his bag.

“ I’m gonna go spend the night with Méaróg! ” Aran called out to Gothi before going down the stairs. The ones he’d built that day were satisfyingly sturdy, and he didn’t fear falling with the new railing installed.

The Irish boy turned away from Hooligan Village, running into the woods and immediately tripping over a tree root. He managed to support himself with a tree. His skin didn’t break but he found that his hands stung slightly. It would probably be a good idea not to run in the woods while the sun was down. Aran walked at a more reasonable pace, whistling pleasantly to himself as he shoved his hands in his pockets. It was getting colder and Aran did not appreciate the weather. After walking for nearly half an hour, Aran shouted for his brother, sure that he must be close enough to hear by then.

Méaróg called out to him in response, and Aran stood there until he was knocked over by a very excitable dragon. The redhead took it upon himself to fill Méaróg in on everything that had happened since his last visit. He had a suspicion the reptile didn’t care too much about his boring adventures. Méaróg brought him to the beach and began rolling about in the sand, half-burying himself. Aran rolled his eyes and prepared a fire. After talking to his brother for some time, he nestled against his side, letting the warmth of the fire help lull him to sleep.

He awoke the next morning to the sun blinding him with its practically white light, and he idly thought he would welcome death at that moment. It was cold; freezing, even. Aran thought he saw a bit of snow. His brother was nowhere to be seen, but if the splashing water nearby meant anything, he would probably see him again after he finished fishing for breakfast. Aran set about rekindling the fire that had died out as he slept, hoping to regain some warmth in his fingers. As he waited for Méaróg, he pulled his tin whistle out, playing a simple tune on it. Anything more complex would be impossible in the cold, but it was something to occupy his time with. He regretted spending the night out in the elements.

Soon, Méaróg returned with a heaping helping of fish. Aran took the time to spear one with a stick and roast it over the fire. His brother simply gobbled the rest up. The redhead scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out in attempt to convey his disgust. His reptilian companion misinterpreted it and spat a fishtail out at him. Aran barely closed his mouth in time, and returned his attention to his own meal. The roasted fish was flavorless, and not very delicious, but it satisfied his hunger for the time being. He allowed Méaróg to fly him back to the edge of the forest before heading towards where he’d left his stair-building supplies the previous day.

It was immediately apparent that he wouldn’t have enough wood to finish, so he made his way towards town. Gobber was a blacksmith, so he primarily worked with metal. That wasn’t to say that he never needed any wood from time to time, and Aran had spent a decent amount of time stocking up on wooden planks before he’d begun work on the stairs. They were stored behind the smithy for his own convenience. It looked empty and he didn’t really feel like going around so he walked through the building, towards the back door.

The sound of a nail being hammered into wood caught his attention, and he realized the smithy was not quite as empty as he thought. Judging by the otherwise quiet of the area, Aran assumed Hiccup was working on his contraptions, and Gobber was off doing God knows what. He popped his head into the side room Hiccup had claimed for his various inventions, and realized the boy was also muttering to himself. It was too quiet for Aran to really understand, so he decided to make his presence known instead of trying to eavesdrop. He’d probably be an awful eavesdropper anyways.

“Is this your thing you were talking about?” Aran asked, leaning over Hiccup’s shoulder and invading his personal space bubble. Hiccup jumped.

“A-Aran! Where did you… where did you, uhh, come from?” Hiccup’s face flushed as he vaguely attempted to hide what he was working on.

“Gothi’s hut? Where I live?” Aran raised a thick eyebrow at his younger friend, who only blushed more. “This is the bola shooter thing, right?” He moved to tap it, but Hiccup grabbed his wrist. His grasp was surprisingly firm.

“Yeah, it uhh, still has some calibration issues, it’s kinda sensitive, so…” Hiccup released his wrist pretty quickly after saying that, glancing around awkwardly.

“Right. No touch.” Aran nodded, and watched Hiccup work for a quiet moment. “Where’d you get the wood?” He asked.

“It was just sitting out back.” Hiccup responded without too much thought.

“ Fuck. ” Aran said.

“What was that?” Hiccup paused, looking up at him. Aran hadn’t exactly taught him how to curse in Irish.

“Oh, nothing.” Aran sighed.

It looked like he’d have to get more wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh I am so so so sorry about the late update, I literally have no excuse. I wasn't doing anything productive and I haven't even been super depressed (aside from the whole not eating or sleeping thing oops hi am i even human?) I've just been working on portrait mods for Stardew Valley. I got my testosterone and I've written one new chapter though so everything's going swell.  
> I'm not sure I'll be able to update next Tuesday as that is the day I leave for Scotland though.  
> Also I'd forgotten how short this chapter was? It's weird that it's just about Aran fixing up Gothi's stairs. If this were a real book this chapter would be shortened to like, a paragraph. This shit isn't that important??? i dunno


	9. Hiccup the Useful

“No.”

“Oh come on, Aran.” Hiccup pleaded.

“I’m not covering for you so you can go out and get yourself killed.” Aran responded firmly, handing a sword to the viking at the front of the queue outside the forge. An explosion sounded from outside, as if agreeing with the Irish teen.

“But-”

“Ah, ah, ah! Respect your elders!” Aran shushed him, tossing a bola to the next hooligan in line. Hiccup wasn’t even helping, he was just begging.

“Oh for the love of- You’re only two years older than me!” Hiccup exclaimed. He tried to leave, but Aran easily dragged him back, possibly stretching his shirt out in the process.

“I’m not your only elder.” Aran pointed out. “Chief Stoick’ll have my head if I let you out, and there’s a reason Gobber left me in charge instead of you.” He dumped a rather heavy axe in Hiccup’s arms, and it took nearly all the scrawny boy’s focus to stay upright.

“You ask my to cover for you all the time!” Hiccup protested, not budging from his spot.

“Yeah, when Gobber’s here. Now sharpen the damn axe.”

Hiccup grumbled as he went about his task. Aran bustled about the forge, handing out various weapons to the hooligans outside and taking note of who took what. From the window, he could see the fire brigade trying their best to put out the fires. It was a somewhat futile effort, as the buckets couldn’t begin to make a difference against the raging flames. He supposed it gave them something to do and feel useful. The raid lasted little more than an hour longer, and Aran began whistling as he removed his gloves and apron. Hiccup sighed and Aran glanced over at his now fifteen-year-old friend.

Not too much had changed in his two years on Berk. His Norse had gotten better, though he would never lose his thick Irish accent. After reinforcing Gothi’s stairs, Aran had gone about helping around town. He’d helped in rebuilding several houses that were destroyed during dragon raids. His eagerness to help around town put him in most people’s good books, and he was rather popular with the children as well due to his simple friendly nature. Though he was somewhat self-conscious about his singing voice, he was more than happy to play his tin whistle for them.

It took quite some time for Aran to believe his burn was fully healed. Méaróg had been more than eager to wrestle with his human brother when the time finally came and Aran quickly rebuilt the muscle mass he’d lost in the time he’d been taking it easy. He was more  than grateful to have muscle again, especially when it finally became time for him to fight Snotlout to the death. Neither one won in the end, as Snotlout’s mother (Aran thought her name was Fainting Freda, but he couldn’t be sure) called for him to help her take care of Adelaide. The two of them liked to fight over who would’ve won, had they been able to finish the match. Their relationship was an odd one, to say the least. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hostile either.

The same could almost be said about him and Astrid. They argued about many different things, and had very different ways of looking at the world. Astrid was a very strong-willed and stubborn individual, and Aran getting along with her really depended on what they were talking about. She used to ask to spar with him, but quickly learned he had no weapon based fighting experience despite his strong appearance and dropped the subject.

Fishlegs was a different story. The large boy was very sweet and excitable, and Aran enjoyed hearing him ramble about different types of dragons written about in the Book of Dragons. Unfortunately, the book was not very in-depth, but it made a perfect piece of literature to teach Aran how to read Norse. He’d gotten decent at reading in writing in the past two years, but he also wished the book spoke of more than how to kill dragons. Him and Fishlegs had gotten into many different discussions about the different uses for dragons abilities, going so far as to hypothetically consider using timberjacks to chop large amounts of trees down quickly to get lumber. It was all hypothetical, of course, as Fishlegs didn’t believe it possible to tame a dragon. The conversations were fun regardless.

The twins had a very different definition of fun. Aran couldn’t even count the number of half thought out plans he’d beared witness to. He’d even managed to be a part of some of them, but these were usually the pranks directed at Snotlout. Aran had nothing in particular against Snotlout, as the two of them had wordlessly agreed to never mention the accidental flirting that had taken place upon their first meeting. This didn’t stop Snotlout from having the most  hilarious reactions when pranked, however, so he certainly wasn’t safe from the Thorston twins and their own special brand of chaos.

“Ah, there’s my favorite underling.” Gobber said as he entered the smithy, switching his hand out from an axe to a brush. “Oh, and Hiccup’s still here too.” He joked, brushing his mustache.

“Nice to know I’m appreciated.” Hiccup sighed, trying not to let the meaningless jab get to him. Sure, Aran had only been working in the forge for two years, but it wasn’t hard to see that he was better during raids than him. It was the muscle.

“Aw, you know we love you, Hic.” Aran teased, rustling his hair and moving on before Hiccup could respond. “How was the raid?”

“Pretty fun, no deaths, minimal house burnage.” Gobber stated, matter of fact. He’d only gone out in the first place because he wanted to join in the fun. It hadn’t been a very serious raid.

“That’s nice to hear. I wrote up everyone’s names and what weapons they got, so you can charge them accordingly when you bump into them, and we can restock for next time.” Aran said, gesturing to the sheet of parchment off to the side on the counter. “God knows we never have enough bolas.”

“Aye, thanks lad.” Gobber sat on a stool, taking a brief moment to relax. “Funny thing, that religion o’ yours is.” He commented.

“It’s not too complicated.” Aran laughed. “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” He quoted.

“But what if that God abandons you in your time of need?” Hiccup asked, looking outside, towards the burning buildings. He had no problem with the second half of that quote. Maybe if people followed it, he wouldn’t have had such an awful childhood.

“Then… maybe it’s a trial you’re meant to overcome.” Aran responded. “Maybe you made a mistake somewhere, and it’s your punishment.”

“Or he’s just an ass.” Gobber commented, and Aran gasped, affronted. “If we pay tribute to Freyr and all our crops fail and our animals won’t reproduce, well, that’s that. We won’t be giving our goodies to Freyr anytime soon.”

“But…” Aran frowned, startled by that viewpoint. “But it’s God. I don’t wanna be damned to Hell.”

“All I’m sayin’ is if the big guy doesn’t follow through, I wouldn’t pay him any respect.” Gobber shrugged, trading his brush hand out for a tankard. “I’m headed off to the Great Hall if either of you needs me.” And with that, he was gone.

“That was like, the first real conversation I’ve had about religion here.” Aran said after a brief moment.

“Yeah… weird, huh?” Hiccup said, and Aran could only nod.

“Well, I’m pretty hungry. Dinner?” Aran asked, attention now on food after Gobber mentioned the Great Hall.

Hiccup wasn’t about to turn down the offer of a meal together, so he nodded and the two of them made their way towards Meade Hall. Dinner was a pleasant affair and Hiccup received no particularly dirty looks because Aran had prevented him from causing any mayhem during the raid. As the pair walked by Snotlout, Aran smacked him roughly on the back of his head. Snotlout quickly found himself with a face full of mashed potatoes. He whipped around to glare at whoever humiliated him so and, upon seeing it was Aran, proceeded to throw the plate at him.

Snotlout, face full of mashed potato, didn’t have the best aim in that moment. His plate hit a rather large viking woman, who slowly stood from her seat, murder in her eyes. She let out a battle cry, and hurled a large loaf of crumbly bread across the hall. Aran laughed jovially as he grabbed Hiccup’s hand and dragged him away from the chaos of the now unfolding food fight. The two of them seized two abandoned plates of food before dashing towards the exit. They ducked under flying fish, potatoes, bread, and other various substances (was that Gobber’s tankard hand?) before throwing the door open and dashing into the cold night.

Hiccup immediately slipped on a patch of ice and yelped, trying with all his might not to fall over. Unfortunately for him, he failed to do so. Aran quickly caught the plate he’d thrown in the air in his attempt to stay upright. From the ground, Hiccup glared at his older friend. The Irish teen could only laugh. Hiccup slowly picked himself up, rubbing his aching bottom and maintaining the glare. Aran raised the rescued plate.

“At least the chicken’s safe, yeah?” He grinned cheekily, and Hiccup roughly seized the plate from him.

“Unbelievable. I thought you were my friend, and here you are letting me break my butt.” Hiccup huffed, making his way down the stairs.

“Aw, c’mon.” Aran rolled his eyes, following the shorter teen. “Your butt’s fine. A little flat, but it’s always been that way.”

“H-hey!”

“Besides,” Aran continued, ignoring him. “The plate could’ve broken, and I dunno about you but I hate picking dirt out of food.”

“I dunno about you, but I hate picking my butt up off the ground.”

Aran laughed loudly, as he always did. He was a loud person. Hiccup chanced a quick glance at his butt. It… definitely wasn’t as flat as his. He felt an odd surge of jealousy, though he couldn’t understand why in the world he would be jealous of a butt. His eyes trailed up to his arms, and felt further jealous of his muscle definition. Hiccup quickly discarded that train of thought before Aran could notice his roaming eyes and tease him about some silly kind of attraction Hiccup was sure wasn’t there.

The two of them sat by the well, and Aran pulled two cups out of his pocket. He’d grabbed them earlier during the chaos. Hiccup held the cups as Aran drew a bucket of water. They had a pleasant meal, talking aimlessly about nothing important. Later on in the conversation, Hiccup got on the topic of his invention he’d been working on for two years by that point. He didn’t ever get much time to work on it, but he thought he was almost done. There were just some mild calibration issues he had to take care of and he’d be ready.

Aran listened, but didn’t provide much feedback. He liked letting Hiccup ramble about things that excited him, as he knew most people didn’t let him do so. Any time the boy grew embarrassed by how much he was talking, Aran only encouraged him to keep going, insisting that he was enjoying himself. He didn’t tell him that he cared little for his dragon harming endeavors. Hiccup didn’t need to know that.

By the time they finished eating it was well past midnight, and Aran practically had to force Hiccup to go to sleep. The Haddock boy was buzzing with energy after talking about his inventions, wanting to go work on them right away. Aran told him he could work on them in the morning. Sleep was an important thing for growing boys! Hiccup tried to insist he wasn’t tired, but a yawn took over halfway through his sentence and he was unable to continue his argument. Aran only rolled his eyes at his friend.

It didn’t take long to walk Hiccup to his house and Aran bade him goodnight before walking to the woods his brother continued to hide in. The two of them had found a more permanent location within the forest for Méaróg to stay in, thanks to the discovery of caves in the cliff by the far beach. Aran had built a fire pit in the largest of the caves, and the fire was crackling pleasantly when he approached. Méaróg wasn’t particularly fond of the cold, so he was huddled near the fire. Several large, misshapen rocks were in the cave, and Aran used one of them to keep his sketchbook filled with sketches of dragons. The others were primarily used as chairs, though one of them had a lantern on it. He kept forgetting to bring that back.

Méaróg trotted over to him immediately upon his entrance to the cave, sniffing him all over and checking to see he had no injuries. No matter how many times Aran came back from raids unharmed, his brother felt the need to check him over. The desert wraith grew anxious with the violent energy in the air and took special care not to leave his cave during them. Something about the other dragons felt wrong, and he didn’t want to run into one of them. He also didn’t want Aran to run into them, and feared that his human brother would perish at the claws of one of the mindless beasts.

Aran knew nothing of his brother’s worries, but he did understand that he needed to see him after every raid. They’d become more frequent lately; something nobody enjoyed. Aran sat on the ground by the fire pit, letting Méaróg rest his head on his lap. He scratched his head as he told him about his day. Méaróg crooned softly, happy that everything had gone smoothly. The dragon slowly drifted off to sleep, and though Aran was tired, he didn’t want to spend the night in the cave. It was winter, and the nights were only getting colder.

He slowly left his sleeping brother, careful not to disturb him, and traversed the now familiar path through the forest. Aran made his way up the sturdy stairs leading to Gothi’s hut. He used the railing he’d built for no other reason than the fact that it was there. There were small carvings here and there, preserved by the lacquer he’d brushed on after finishing. Aran didn’t have many things he was particularly proud of, but he was certainly proud of these stairs. Gothi was asleep when he entered the small building, so Aran stayed quiet as he got ready for bed.

In the morning, Aran took one look at the snow and decided there was no way he was going outside. He relit the fire after shuffling out of bed and inspected Gothi’s pantry to see what they had to eat. Aran saw enough ingredients to make some kind of soup, though he would need to fetch water to do that, and didn’t want to leave the hut. He thought for a moment before taking the large pot and moving it onto the porch to gather snow. It wasn’t as if he were starving in that moment, so he could wait and melt the snow in the pot when lunch came around. He could just tide his hunger over with an apple in the meantime.

As he waited, he decided to sit in his bed and practice reading a book of Norse legends Gothi had given to him. It was difficult to translate the runes into words that weren’t his first language. Despite the book being abridged, he struggled with it greatly. He wondered how different Irish text looked. His brain started to hurt, so he checked the pot. It was full enough, so he hauled it inside and placed it over the fire, gathering the ingredients.

By the time the snow had melted into water, Aran was decently hungry. A knock at the door caught his attention, and he looked at the weathered wood in surprise. Perhaps somebody needed to see Gothi? Glancing around showed that she was poring over her medicines, so Aran opened the door himself. Standing in the snow was a very red-faced Hiccup, and Aran quickly ushered him inside. The chief’s son sat on a stool near the fire, and Aran was unsure why he would have walked all the way up the stairs to Gothi’s hut.

“Are you feeling sick?” He asked, not able to think of any other reason. Hiccup hesitated before shaking his head.

“No… No, not sick, just…” He paused. “Not physically, I mean. I just…” The boy clenched his hands in his lap, staring down into the fire.

“You just feel like  shit ?” Aran asked, vaguely wondering which of the many Viking curse words that would equate to. Hiccup raised a brow at him. “I dunno how to translate that.”

“I feel like garbage. Garbage is pretty annoying and useless.” Hiccup said.

“You’re not garbage.” Aran responded, checking to see if the water was boiling. It wasn’t. “And you aren’t useless either.”

“I can’t do anything right though, Aran.” Hiccup sighed, glum.

“Did something happen?”

“I went to the forge and broke an axe I was supposed to be sharpening, so Gobber told me to get out before I ruined more than I already had, and then when I bumped into my dad and asked him about dragon training he told me no, because I’d crack my skull as soon as the first dragon was let out of its cage.” Hiccup’s voice was flat, and though his eyes reflected the fire in front of him, they were lifeless. He seemed to have given up. On what, Aran wasn’t sure. Everything?

“Oh, hey, come on, that’s not…” Aran trailed off, not entirely sure where he’d been going with that sentence. He went over to Hiccup and put an arm around him. “Everyone has their off days, okay?  Remember Gobber’s stumps ache when it gets colder?”

“Yeah…”

“He was probably already in a rotten mood, I’m sure he didn’t mean to blow up at you like that.” Aran squeezed his shoulder.

“I guess…” Hiccup said, looking down.

“And I think your dad is just secretly overprotective.” Aran patted Hiccup’s arm. “You’re not useless, okay?”

“Mm…” He didn’t sound convinced, and Aran sighed.

“Hiccup, I would be dead right now if it weren’t for you.” He said softly. “If you hadn’t found me in the woods that day, I-I probably wouldn’t have…” Aran paused, then swallowed a lump in his throat. “I  _ know _ I wouldn’t have survived.”

“I just…” Hiccup frowned, looking Aran up and down. He almost seemed to find it hard to believe that he’d saved someone’s life. “I wish I was like everyone else, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Aran thought of how much different his life would’ve been if he’d just been born male. He probably wouldn’t have been on Berk in the first place. “But I’m glad you’re not.” He said instead. “You wouldn’t have been in the forest that day if you were like everybody else. Besides, there are plenty of giant muscle heads on this island, but I doubt their giant, meaty hands could make anything useful.” Aran said, lifting one of Hiccup’s hands. His skin was soft from the lack of weapon experience he had.

“But none of my inventions are useful.” Hiccup pointed out.

“I thought you were almost done with your bola launcher?”

“Yeah, I guess. Doubt I’ll ever get the chance to use it though.” He took his hand back.

“Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. You never know.”

“I just- I wanna  _ be _ out there, Aran. I wanna be someone. Someone people don’t look at with- with disappointment. They all just look at me, and they groan and roll their eyes because oh boy! Here comes Hiccup the Useless!” Hiccup exclaimed, brows furrowing as he let his frustration out. “And I- I can’t even prove that I’m  _ not _ useless because no one takes me seriously because they all think I’m useless!” He threw his hands up in the air as if the action would release his anger.

“You’ll get your chance to prove yourself someday soon.” Aran told him. “I can feel it.”

“... Thanks, Aran.” Hiccup smiled at him, his eyes softening slightly. “I don’t really say it a lot, but I… I’m really glad you let me talk to you about this stuff.”

“Hey, I’m glad you trust me enough to confide in me.” Aran returned the smile. “Now, wanna be Hiccup the Useful and help me cook?” Hiccup laughed.

“If we burn something, I’m blaming you for asking me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot it was Friday, oops.


	10. Two Minutes

The dragon raids were becoming more and more frequent, and Aran hated it with every fibre of his being. He was exhausted. Raids meant more weapons made, more buildings destroyed, more injuries suffered, and more deaths witnessed. He was kept on his feet all night, helping out in the forge, and after the dragons left he immediately had to go help Gothi tend to the wounded. Méaróg still needed to see him after these raids so by the time Gothi finally dismissed him, he couldn’t simply go to his bed and pass out. Each night after the raids, Aran would drag his feet through the forest to the far end of the island where his brother anxiously awaited him. By the time he reached Méaróg, he passed out near immediately, and could only be thankful that the dragon kept the fire going through the night and protected him from the elements.

In summary, raids were terrible and Aran hated them. That was before taking into account how much he disliked the dragons being harmed in the first place. Aran was typically in a bad mood for a full twenty-four hours after a raid and people tended to avoid him. During the raids, however, he was pumped full of adrenaline despite not being part of the action. The yells and screeches outside made his heart beat fast and he prayed several times that the damage would be minimal. It was somewhat frustrating when Hiccup arrived at the forge nearly an hour into a particularly nasty raid.

“Hiccup!” Aran exclaimed, nearly crashing into him as he went to hand a hammer off to a viking outside. “Careful!” At the sound of Aran’s voice, Gobber noticed his scrawnier apprentice.

“Oh, nice of you to join the party!” Gobber said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he paused in hammering a bit of red-hot metal. “I thought you’d been carried off!”

“Wh- who, me?” Hiccup asked, hastily tying his apron behind his back. “Nah, come on, I’m  _ way _ too muscular for their tastes.” He joked as he struggled to put a large hammer in its place. “They wouldn’t know what to do with all this.” Hiccup flexed, and Aran snorted.

“Can’t blame ‘em, honestly, there’s not much there.” Aran was handed some damaged weapons from the front and he handed them off to Hiccup, who quickly started pumping the bellows to take care of them.

“Ah, don’t sell ‘im short. They need toothpicks, don’t they?” Gobber joked as he tossed a sword towards its waiting owner.

The three of them continued working, Aran spending more time running about the forge and pulling things from the back for the two more experienced blacksmiths to work more efficiently. While it was true his presence was helpful, he knew he wasn’t quite skilled enough to make and repair weapons under a time crunch like this. He instead tried his best to make operations work as smoothly as possible. Outside, houses were splashed with lava and intense flames. Hiccup sighed as he looked out the window at the fire brigade. Aran lightly smacked the back of his head.

“The fire brigade is near-useless, get back to work.” Aran told him.

“But-”

“They don’t need you out there, Hiccup.” Gobber said.

“We need you in here, doing something actually useful.” Aran added, because otherwise that statement may have been received as harsh and mean.

“Please, two minutes, I’ll kill a dragon, my-” Hiccup started, but Aran cut him off.

“Nobody our age has killed a dragon yet! You haven’t even started dragon training, all you’ll do is get yourself killed!” He exclaimed.

“You can’t lift an axe, you can’t swing a hammer, you can’t even throw one of these!” Gobber exclaimed as he held a bola up to the front window. A viking quickly took it from him, throwing it and ensnaring a gronkle. Aran winced.

“Okay, fine, but  _ this _ will throw it for me.” Hiccup said as he walked to the back of the smithy, patting his bola launcher. It did successfully launch its bola, but it also smacked a waiting customer in the face.

“Woah, woah, okay, we really don’t need to be talking about this right now, there are people waiting in line.” Aran said loudly, before Gobber could say something that would escalate the argument. “Hicc, this sword needs sharpening, Gobber, Spitelout’s axe broke again.”

And the situation was diffused, for the moment at least. Hiccup’s eyebrows were drawn with irritation as he sharpened the sword. Gobber seemed to have put the conversation out of his mind already, however. Aran took a moment to check on the victim of Hiccup’s bola launcher before getting back to work. Outside, dragons were setting houses on fire and stealing food. Hooligans tried their best to fend off the reptiles, but it was with panic that they heard a loud whistling sound. A blast of plasma shook the ground as it hit a tower, causing massive damages. The night fury had joined the battle. Things weren’t looking good.

“Man the fort, you two.” Gobber said, attaching his axe hand. “They need  _ me _ out there.”

“Yes, sir.” Aran nodded obediently. Gobber turned to squint at Hiccup.

“And Aran, keep Hiccup out of trouble.”

Hiccup didn’t have time to be offended, because Gobber was already charging out into the swarm of chaos outside. With Gobber gone, Aran was forced to do more smithwork, and he un-dented several swords. A clattering sound alerted him that Hiccup had knocked something over and Aran turned to discover Hiccup trying to sneak out with his bola launcher. Aran groaned. He really didn’t want to deal with this.

“Hiccup, where in the world do you think you’re going?” Aran asked.

“Two minutes!” Hiccup shouted, bolting out of the door.

“Hiccup!”

Aran barely took the time to put the fires in the forge out before chasing after his younger friend. The Irish teen was still wearing his gloves and apron from the forge, and vikings had to dodge out of Hiccup’s way as he ran with his cumbersome contraption. Various irritated shouts were sent his way, and Aran apologized to the villagers on Hiccup’s behalf as he chased after the boy. He idly thought Chief Stoick would kill them both when he found out. If he found. If. If is good.

“Hiccup!” Aran hissed at him, finally catching up to the chief’s son as he set up his bola launcher. The two were far away from the commotion in town. It almost seemed quiet, if one ignored the distant sounds of fighting.

“Shh!” Hiccup shushed him, determination on his face. He muttered to himself as he squinted at the starry night sky.

Aran glanced around nervously, knowing a wild dragon could happen upon them at any moment. He’d only ever really been in close proximity to Méaróg, and had no idea how he would handle any other dragon; especially a dragon with murderous intent. The older boy reflexively covered his ears at the sound of the telltale whistle of the night fury, and when a catapult exploded, Hiccup let his contraption do its job. There was a heart-wrenching cry that Aran couldn’t help but wince at and his brown eyes widened at the sight of a dark shape streaking towards the forest. He couldn’t believe it. Hiccup actually shot down a dragon.

“Aran!” Hiccup’s eyes were also wide, though with elation rather than disbelief and horror. “I hit it! I actually  _ hit _ it!”

“Hiccup.” Aran grabbed onto his wrist, and Hiccup looked at him in confusion, not seeing the monstrous nightmare creeping up behind him.

“Oh man, just wait until my dad hears about this! And boy did I just prove Gobber wrong, and Snotlout! And- and-” Hiccup continued excitedly. His smile quickly dropped at the deafening roar behind him.

“Run!”

Aran didn’t even let him turn around to see the nightmare, which was likely unhappy at Hiccup’s act of shooting down one of its allies. Hiccup attempted to run towards the village, but Aran pulled him to the forest, positive that the last thing Hooligan Village needed was another angry monstrous nightmare. Deep in the forest, the trees would be close together, and the larger dragon would be unable to follow them. If they could just get that far…

Hiccup yelped, tripping over a tree root. Aran cursed loudly, barely staying upright as he had still been holding onto the smaller boy’s wrist. He bent down to help him up, but this little mishap gave the dragon ample time to catch up with them, its body aflame. It was with great relief that Aran heard the familiar caw of his brother and a flaming ball of hardened sand slammed into their pursuer. The nightmare shrieked with pain and anger, and Aran couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. Méaróg jumped down from the trees, rearing up on his hind legs and letting out a protective shout. The nightmare screamed back at him, snapping jaws full of jagged teeth.

“Come on, while it’s distracted!” Aran pulled Hiccup along with him, using the cover of the trees to go around the nightmare and back towards the village.

“W-what kind of dragon **_was_** that?” Hiccup asked, not entirely sure what just happened.

“A desert wraith.” Aran told him. “They burrow in the sand to hunt their prey.”

“But those live in  _ deserts! _ ” Hiccup exclaimed, pointing out the obvious. “Why would one be this far north?” Aran could only shrug. “And- and why would it  _ protect _ us?”

“I don’t know, maybe he knows that nightmare and they don’t like each other. Maybe it was invading its territory. They’re just animals.” Aran told Hiccup. “It doesn’t have to be anything complicated.”

“Right.” Hiccup nodded.

“Now let’s hope we can get back to the forge without being yelled at because you needed your two minutes.” Aran squinted at him and Hiccup laughed nervously.

“Well, I really hit a night fury.” He protested weakly.

“Yes, and I’m very proud of you.” Aran lied. “Just don’t run off again. You’ll get us  _ both _ in trouble.”

The two of them tried their best to sneak back into the forge, but the raid was winding down and Gobber could only raise his eyebrows at them. Both teens winced and apologized, and Gobber could only say they should feel lucky he hadn’t told the chief about their little disappearing act. Aran finally removed his apron, and the two of them left the forge when it was clear there were no more dragons out and about. He walked Hiccup to his house.

“You should get some sleep now.” Aran told him. “The night fury will be there later.”

“But…” Hiccup looked at him pleadingly.

“It’ll be a lot easier to find him if you get some rest though.” Aran smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, I can already see the adrenaline leaving you.”

“Shut up…” Hiccup grumbled, but conceded. Aran was right. He should sleep.

After hugging Hiccup goodnight and making sure he was asleep in his bed, Aran went to help Gothi in patching up the wounded. This raid wasn’t a good one by any means, and he was up for nearly three hours. The sun had already risen by the time Gothi dismissed him and he didn’t have to energy to go check on Méaróg. That dragon had saved his life. He smiled a little as he got under his covers. Méaróg would be getting some lovely scratches when he saw his brother the next day. That was, assuming he was alright. The thought struck Aran right as he’d been about to fall asleep. Méaróg was by no means a small dragon but that didn’t change the fact that the nightmare was nearly two times his size. Aran could only hope Méaróg would be alright in the morning. He would bring a salve with him just in case.

As the midday sun hung high in the sky, Aran woke up, immediately going to rifle about in Gothi’s cabinets. He found several different leafy ingredients and mashed them together, making a thick green paste that he scraped into a decently sized bottle. Though he had never tested it on a dragon, he had done so on humans as well as lizards and it worked just fine. Hopefully it would continue to do its job. Aran darted off into the forest in search of his brother.

Méaróg was not where Aran had last seen him. Aran was thankful for this, but the claw marks on the tree bark around did nothing to soothe his worries. He followed the signs of the fighting until they vanished, and with no further clues, Aran headed to the cave. A large, familiar lump of reptile was laying there and Aran was relieved to see it breathing. Unfortunately, this relief didn’t last long as he saw deep gashes in his brother’s hide. Aran rushed over, reassuring him that he was safe before he could react with panic. He carefully rubbed the ointment into Méaróg’s wounds, telling him to wait as he went to get fish for him. It took a while to gather, but Aran returned eventually and Méaróg was grateful for the meal and water. Aran decided to stay with Méaróg for the rest of the day, unaware that Hiccup was nearby, meeting a certain night fury he’d recently shot down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know I'm late updating but I spent all of yesterday travelling from Texas to Toronto to Scotland. I honestly haven't had the time to update this, but I got it up now! I think I warned you about this in my last author's note, but if I did forget I apologize now.


	11. Welcome to Dragon Training?

Two days after Hiccup shot down the night fury, Aran was very rudely awoken by Gothi dumping a freezing glass of water on his face. He spluttered and got ready in a daze before being shoved out the door and nearly falling down the many stairs that led from Gothi’s hut to the town of Berk. Aran looked back at the old woman in utter confusion and she roughly pointed her staff in a specific direction. The Irish teen blearily looked where she was pointing and saw the dragon training arena. He groaned.

“ Do I have to? ”

Aran’s answer was a smack on the head and another shove towards the stairs, so he begrudgingly made his way across town. It was always cold on Berk, but luckily it was one of the slightly warmer seasons. The sky was cloudy but at least it wasn’t snowing or hailing. He supposed he should be happy about this but all he could be was disgruntled at being woken up by cold water so he could go train to kill dragons, which he would never want to do anyway. Aran paid so little attention to his surroundings that he slipped as he hopped down three steps of stone stairs, roughly smacking his head against the building in front of him. It took several minutes for him to pick himself back up off the ground.

The rest of the walk to the arena was difficult as his head throbbed, ears rang, and vision swam in front of him. He figured he was probably fine. It was just a little bump, right? He’d had worse. When he arrived at the dragon training arena, he saw he was the last to arrive. This was judging by the vague shapes he saw in front of them. He guessed who was who according to relative height. Aran’s vision continued to swim and the ringing in his ears persisted.

“Behind these doors- Ah, Aran! Nice of you to join us!” Gobber, or at least who Aran assumed to be Gobber, said.

“ I think I have a concussion? ” Aran stumbled a bit.

“Uhh,  _ Norse _ , Aran.” Snotlout said, rolling his eyes, though Aran couldn’t focus enough to see it.

“I think I have a concussion.” Aran repeated slowly, in the proper language this time.

“Oh, umm, do you think you should sit ou-” Hiccup was quickly interrupted.

“Eh, you’ll be fine.” Gobber waved him off.

Aran stood at the end, next to the person he knew could only be Hiccup. He vaguely realized he was the only one without a weapon, and as Gobber spoke, he couldn’t focus on the words coming out of the man’s mouth. His eyes were unfocused, and he received several glances of concern. These glances were mostly from Hiccup, but Fishlegs glanced at him as well, and even Astrid leaned forward to look in his direction.

Gobber opened one of the pens containing dragons and a gronkle burst out, making a beeline for some discarded rocks on the edge of the enclosure. Hiccup grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with more determination than muscle, and Aran tried his best not to fall over. He only lasted so long and landed on his ass after escaping immediate danger. Everyone was picking up shields, but he just sat uselessly on the ground.

The ringing in his throbbing head only intensified when the other teens began hitting their shields with their weapons. Aran squeezed his eyes shut, jamming his fingers in his ears. Though he continued to sit on the ground, he tried his best to push himself towards the wall with his booted feet. When his back collided with something solid, he put his head between his knees and didn’t move until the commotion was over. Looking up, he saw his vision still swam.

“Are you alright?” A feminine voice sounded from beside him and Aran jerked his head to the left to see Astrid squat down beside him. He regretted the quick movement and took perhaps longer than he should have to respond.

“Urgh, I think so…” Aran put a hand on his head. “I just need to eat and lay down honestly. Gothi dumped water on my face to wake me up because I overslept, so I couldn’t eat breakfast, and I smacked my head against a building on my way here.” He said, oversharing.

“That doesn’t sound so great. Can you stand?” Astrid did so herself, leaving her squatting position.

“I think I- no, no, no I definitely can’t.” Aran’s head throbbed intensely.

“Here, let me help. It’s past lunch, so the Great Hall’s probably pretty empty and we can grab some food.”

Astrid hoisted him up, ignoring his wince of pain. He put his arm around her shoulders, struck both by how she’d grown to be an inch taller than him thus far, and was really quite muscular. He’d never particularly payed attention to that before. The blonde girl put one arm around his waist, her other hand on the arm he’d draped over her shoulders. They hobbled towards Meade Hall, Astrid thankfully not making much conversation with him. The two of them sat and ate together and Astrid left him there after confirming that he would be fine without her help.

Aran decided to lay down on the now empty bench, closing his eyes. He couldn’t properly fall asleep for some time, but he managed to get a nap in before dinner and didn’t do anything for the rest of the day. The warriors had sailed off that morning, so thankfully there was no work for him to do for Gothi or Gobber. Aran was roused from his slumber by an increase of noise and he pushed himself up into a seated position. The rest of the teens seemed to have sat down at the table next to his. Astrid was at the end of the bench closer to him and she made eye contact with him after saying something about a somersault dive and a reverse tumble. It seemed Gobber was having a little discussion with his class about what had happened in the ring that day. The blonde girl handed him an extra plate she’d gotten for him, and Aran thanked her with a smile as he listened in on the conversation, his ears not ringing quite so much anymore.

“Where did Hiccup go wrong?” Gobber asked the group. Aran was vaguely aware that the scrawny teen had approached the table, sopping wet.

“Uhh, he showed up?” Ruffnut quipped.

“He didn’t get eaten.” Tuffnut added. Aran noted that Snotlout was making an effort to take up more space than he needed in an attempt to prevent Hiccup from sitting with the group.

“He talks too much.” Astrid said, then glanced at Snotlout, recalling his annoying flirting. “In fact, _ everyone _ seemed to be talking instead of actually focusing on the  _ dragon _ trying to kill us. Every time one of your shields got blasted, it’s because you were too busy _ talking _ .”

“ _ Thank _ you, Astrid.” Gobber said as Hiccup took the seat in front of Aran. “You need to live, and  _ breathe _ this stuff.” The portly man held up a leather-bound book before putting it on the table with more people at it.

“Oh, that’s the dragon manual.” Aran commented, remembering having to read it time and time again as it was one of the only books available for Fishlegs to teach Aran how to read.

“Right! Everything we know about every dragon we know of is in this book.” Gobber looked up at the sound of rumbling thunder. “No attacks tonight. Study up.” He walked off.

“Wait.” Tuffnut suddenly straightened up, abandoning the knife he’d been balancing on the table. “You mean  _ read _ ?”

“While we’re still _ alive _ ?” Ruffnut sounded incredulous.

“Why read words when you can just  _ kill _ ,” Snotlout slammed his fist on the table, causing a chicken bone to fly up in the air before clattering back down onto the table. “The stuff the words tell you stuff about?”

“Oh, I’ve read it like,  _ twelve _ times!” Fishlegs exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he finally had the chance to talk about something he was interested in. “There’s this water dragon that sprays  _ boiling _ water at your face!”

“Scauldron.” Aran said, automatically. His lessons with Fishlegs had involved flash cards about dragons on them.

“Yeah!” Fishlegs turned to grin at him momentarily. “And there’s this  _ other _ one the buries itself for a week-”

“Yeah, there was a chance I was gonna read that…” Tuffnut interrupted before Aran could say Fishlegs was talking about the sand wraith.

“But now…” Ruffnut added.

“You guys read, I’ll go kill stuff.” Snotlout said, standing up and starting to walk off, the twins in close pursuit. Fishlegs followed after the three of them, intent on sharing his knowledge.

“... So, uhh…” Hiccup cleared his throat awkwardly, approaching the nearly empty table.

“I’ve read it already.” Astrid said, standing up. “You alright, Aran?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for earlier. I’ll have to repay you somehow.”

“How about when I get a concussion, you help me in return.”Astrid smiled at him.

“Will do.” Aran waved as she walked off. “I like how she said  _ when _ she gets a concussion. Like, she knows she’s gonna get one at some point.” He said to Hiccup, laughter in his voice.

“Umm, yeah…” Hiccup took the Book of Dragons, sitting next to Aran. “Since when are you and Astrid so friendly?” There was jealousy in his voice.

“Since my best friend didn’t check on me after I got a concussion.” Aran stuck his tongue out at Hiccup, whose cheeks flushed pink.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, guilty. There had been other things on his mind at the time.

“‘S okay.” Aran said, lightly patting him on the back. Oh. He was still wet. “You gonna read it?” The dragon manual sat unopened in front of the two of them.

“Well, I want to, but…” Hiccup paused, pulling at his wet tunic. “I think I’m gonna go dry off first. Change my clothes.” Aran laughed.

“I’ll be here.” He said. “I’m not about to go all the way up to Gothi’s hut in this storm.”

Hiccup left, and Aran stretched out on the bench again. He had time for a quick nap, and by the time his scrawny friend returned, the lights had dimmed even further. It was empty in the Great Hall besides the two of them. Aran, having already read the Book of Dragons many times over, rested his head on his arms as Hiccup read aloud. The younger teen seemed to have forgotten Aran was there as he read. As he progressed, he only skimmed, focussing on the various ways dragons killed their victims and how one should deal with these dragons. Kill on sight. Hiccup flipped through the pages rapidly. Aran was astounded his didn’t tear a page. He seemed to be looking for one in particular.

“Night fury…” He breathed out, stopping at a nearly blank page. “Speed, unknown. Size, unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance; hide and pray it does not find you.” Hiccup pulled his sketchbook from his vest, placing it on the Book of Dragons. It was open to a sketch of a dragon Aran had never seen before so he could only assume it to be one thing.

“Is that the night fury you shot down?” He asked. Hiccup quickly shoved the sketchbook back into his vest, as if he’d only just realized Aran were still there.

“Wha- no! No, it’s not-” The chief’s son laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s- it’s what I  _ think _ it would look like?”

“Did you know you’re a horrible liar?” Aran raised a thick brow at him, and Hiccup sighed.

“Sorry, I just… It’s  _ complicated _ . You’d call me crazy.” Hiccup said, closing the dragon manual.

“Try me.” Aran challenged. Hiccup looked at him for a long moment, biting his thin lip as he debated with himself.

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t think I can just…” The poor boy looked terribly guilty, so Aran gave him a soft smile.

“Hey, it’s okay. If you’re not ready to tell me, I won’t push you.” Aran said. Hiccup smiled gratefully. “Anyways, I’m gonna turn this bench into my bed, so unless you wanna be my pillow, you might wanna move.”

That certainly got him up. Hiccup darted to the other side of the table as Aran shrugged his coat off. He laid it on the table before standing for a moment to remove his longer tunic. Now that he’d taken it off, it occurred to him how deep the scoop of its neck was. While his tunic definitely did nothing to hide the edge of his scar (or his shoulders, if Hiccup’s confused stare said anything about the impracticality of that particular design aspect), his undershirt did even less. Hiccup’s green eyes jumped from Aran’s freckled shoulders to his scarred chest as he turned his tunic into a makeshift pillow.

“I never realized how big that was.” Hiccup said quietly. He’d only ever seen the bit of the scar that peeked out from Aran’s shirt.

“Yeah, it is kinda big, isn’t it?” Aran responded as he unwound his metal spiral accessory from the lock of hair in front of his left ear. A coin with a triskelion dangled at the end of it. It was a gift from Hiccup on Aran’s seventeenth birthday after he’d lamented losing his old one. Aran had a strong suspicion the boy made it himself, and he was very impressed by its craftsmanship.

“What happened?” Hiccup asked. His eyes widened as he realized that might be a sensitive question.

“I did something… really, _ really _ stupid on my fifteenth birthday.” Aran said, looking down at the twisted pink flesh. “It’s honestly a miracle I’m alive. Gothi told me it got infected when I was in the ocean. I would’ve died if it hadn’t been so well taken care of before.”

“That sounds awful, I’m sorry.” Hiccup’s brows furrowed. Aran closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“It really was. I can’t even remember my first month here. Apparently I was feverish and vomiting all over the place though. I had hypothermia and frostbite at first too. Honestly, Gothi must be a  saint .” Aran said, staring at a notch in the table.

“ Saint? ” Hiccup questioned. He’d gone a little green at Aran’s descriptions of his ailments and Aran remembered not everyone was the town’s healer. Gothi had an iron stomach.

“It’s like, someone holy.” Aran said vaguely, not knowing how to define it for him.

“Ah.” Hiccup nodded. That description had been enough for him, at least.

“Do you want to see it?” Aran asked. “The rest of the scar.” He’d never shown anyone but Gothi since arriving on Berk and that had been because she was the one who treated it.

Hiccup hesitated for a moment before nodding and Aran stood up, removing his undershirt. Somehow, the first thing Hiccup’s eyes were drawn to were Aran’s defined abdominal muscles, and Hiccup told himself that was because he was envious. That didn’t seem like the correct feeling, but that’s what he was calling it. He tore his eyes away from Aran’s stomach to look at his scar, as he was supposed to be doing. It was large, spreading all the way over his pectorals. The skin was twisted and shone even in the dim light of the Great Hall at night. Hiccup couldn’t stare at it for long, as it made his stomach somewhat queasy, so he glanced to the side, focusing instead on Aran’s toned arms. His pale skin was littered in freckles; it was almost impressive how many there were.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about what I did yet.” Aran said, breaking the quiet. He pulled his undershirt back on. “I’ve got my own fair share of secrets, but I think that’s part of the biggest one.” His voice sounded loud in the empty room they were in, though it was barely above a whisper. “We’ve all got secrets though, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Hiccup breathed out, thinking of the night fury in the cove.

“Well, I’m going to sleep. Good night, Hiccup. You should try and get some rest.” Aran put his wadded up tunic on the end of the bench to serve as a pillow and pulled his jacket over his torso in the form of an awkwardly shaped blanket.

“G’night, Aran.” Hiccup said. “Sweet dreams.” He added after a short moment of quiet before walking to his house.

Hiccup knew he wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon. There was a lot on his mind now, with the mention of secrets. He knew he had his own secrets, sure. The night fury was in the cove because he couldn’t kill it, like any other viking would have. It was still alive, because he’d failed to kill a dragon. The thought of killing any dragon disturbed him, just as the thought of killing a dog or cat disturbed him. So yes, he definitely had a rather large secret.

But Aran had always seemed to be a very open person. Hiccup had never known him to keep large secrets. Any time he asked a question, he usually received an answer, unless he was planning some sort of surprise. What did he mean by saying he had his own fair share of secrets? Had Hiccup somehow been blind enough to not notice anything odd about his closest friend? Was he not as close to Aran as he’d previously thought he was? Questions swam in his head as he arrived home, trudging through the empty house to his bedroom.

Hiccup didn’t get much sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sense of time is all wonky. I also haven't been writing much of this because I've been busy so if my bi-weekly update schedule screeches to a halt I apologize. I honestly might switch to weekly for a bit instead. I have up to chapter 18 written out currently. We'll see.


	12. Toothless

It was strange, waking up in the Great Hall and finding it quiet. With most of the warriors gone to search for the dragon’s nest, the usual rambunctious crowd was nowhere to be heard. Aran sat up slowly, deciding he may as well get something to eat before he went to Gothi’s hut. The rain had let up, so he’d have no problems climbing the stairs. None of the other teens were present, so either Aran had woken up early, or he’d overslept. He hoped it was the first option. Stepping outside revealed it was, and he shielded his eyes from the weak sunlight as he made his way to Gothi’s hut. It was somewhat difficult to keep his balance, but he managed.

The town elder shook her head in disapproval at him as he entered. Aran gave her a sheepish smile before being ushered to bed, and he spent the day resting his concussion away. Thankfully, he was on time for dragon training a few days later. This time he made sure to watch where he was going, and he took a brief moment to stop by the smithy. He’d been the only one without a weapon last time, and while he hadn’t wound up needing a weapon due to his general inability to function, he’d rather be prepared now. The smithy was full of various different weapons, so Aran’s struggle wasn’t finding a weapon, but finding a weapon he felt he’d actually be able to wield.

Every axe was too clunky, every mace was too heavy, and every spear was too long. The daggers were too small to be convenient, and even most of the swords had some flaw that would bring him trouble. Aran eventually found a sword that was light enough, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. A quick glance at the sky showed him he would just barely be on time if he hurried, so hurry he did.

The arena was set up with tall wooden walls in a maze. Aran had barely taken his spot beside Hiccup when Gobber let the deadly nadder out of its cage. The teens scattered, and Aran wondered if he should have also gotten a shield from the smithy. Had they talked about shields last time? Everyone had a shield. Damn. Aran realized with a start that everyone had left his line of sight, and he cautiously walked through the maze, searching for a familiar face. Gobber shouted information at the group, and Aran found himself running into the other teens. When questioned about his lack of shield he could only shrug and say he had a reckless streak.

“He-hey, uh, so, how would one sneak up on a night fury?” Hiccup’s voice sounded from behind Aran, and he turned his head to see the younger boy standing still and talking to Gobber. Gobber looked somewhat irritated.

“Hiccup, now is _ not _ the time.” Aran hissed at him, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from Gobber before he could ask more questions. Something was off about him that day.

“Hey!” Astrid whispered harshly, getting their attention. “Get down.”

She jerked her head in the direction of the nadder, and Aran pulled Hiccup down into a crouch. Astrid and Snotlout rolled past the gap, easily taking their shields with them. Aran thought that was unnecessary and stood to step past instead. Hiccup followed his lead instead of rolling (probably fearful his shield would weigh him down), and the two of them got past the nadder easily. The younger boy glanced towards Gobber once more, but a light slap on the back of his head caused him to abandon this thought process. Neither of them were near the nadder, but the last thing they needed was for Hiccup to stand still to ask Gobber questions and forget they were in the middle of something.

They could hear crashes on the other side of the ring, and the walls seemed to be toppling over. Astrid was fleeing from the dragon, leaping from wall to wall as it pursued her. Using her shield to break her fall and smoothly go into a roll, she landed on the ground only a few yards away from Aran. She rose to her feet and spun around without hesitation, swinging her axe in a wide arc. The deadly nadder had opened its mouth, likely in an attempt to bite her, but Astrid’s axe sunk into its lower jaw with a sickening thunk.

Blood poured from the wound as she pulled her weapon back, and Aran covered his mouth, feeling nauseous. It wasn’t his first time seeing blood, of course, but there was something different about treating a wound than watching someone dig an axe into something living. The nadder cried out in pain and stumbled back towards its pen. Aran glanced to the side, and saw Hiccup looking even sicker than he felt. The other teens cheered Astrid on, oblivious to their uneasiness.

“Well done, Astrid.” Gobber said casually, and Aran looked up. He noticed Gothi watching in, with an unreadable expression on her face.

“That felt  _ good. _ ” Astrid tightened her grip on the axe hilt. There was a fire in her eyes, but it dampened as she caught sight of Aran. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah, just… wow.” He said vaguely. The group dispersed, Astrid still receiving praise. Aran turned to Hiccup. “I think I’m gonna head to the beach. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay…” Hiccup mumbled, glancing back towards the nadder pen.

They went their separate ways and Aran went off in search of Méaróg. The only stop he made before entering the forest was to return the sword to where he’d found it in the smithy. He didn’t want to touch a weapon anymore. Aran was aware that he would likely see some form of violence during the dragon training, but that knowledge had done nothing to prepare him for actually seeing it. The pained screech of the nadder echoed in his mind, and he felt awful for doing nothing to prevent Astrid from driving her axe into its jaw. There was not much he could have done, but that did nothing to help his guilt.

Méaróg was not in his cave when Aran got to it, so the Irish teen went to sit on a cliffside, dangling his legs over the edge. Would he ever bear witness to Méaróg suffering that sort of injury? Aran wasn’t sure how he would live with himself if that happened. His brother was one of the only parts of home he had on the isle of Berk. If he lost him he’d… Well, he didn’t know what he’d do. Something foolish and reckless, most likely. Aran let out a sigh. His brother would find him soon. He just needed to wait for him to pick up his scent. Aran untied his hair, combing his fingers through it as he hummed a song.

“ It's old but it's beautiful, the best you've ever seen; It was wore for more than ninety years, in the beautiful isle so green; From my father's great ancestors, it descended with galore; It's a relic of old decency, is the hat my father wore. ” Aran sang softly.

A caw sounded from nearby, and Aran stood. His singing hadn’t lasted long, but it had passed the time. Méaróg bounded out of the forest with great energy, but quickly calmed himself upon seeing Aran’s somber demeanor. The large reptile walked over to him and nudged him with his snout. Aran pet him before cautiously getting on his back. He hadn’t attempted flying since that first time, and he wasn’t going to try again anytime soon, but he’d wanted to sit.

“ I’m sorry we’re stuck in this place. ” Aran told him, frowning. “ I never should’ve flown on you in the first place. ”

Méaróg crooned at him with confusion.

“ If only I weren’t so terrified of flying again… ” He mumbled. “ We could go back. ”

His brother made a warbling sound, as if trying to comfort him.

“ I don’t get why you don’t just go back and leave me behind. It’s not your fault I’m here. ” Aran pulled his knees up to his chest.

The sound Méaróg made was sudden and harsh, and Aran felt as if he were being scolded. He could only smile down at the big, pink, mass of scales beneath him.

“ I love you though. Thanks. ”

Aran laid down on his back, heaving a dramatic sigh. He closed his eyes, and didn’t question it when Méaróg started walking somewhere. His younger brother wouldn’t take him anywhere unsafe, as far as he knew. Aran’s temporary bed began bouncing around, and Aran got off of him with some irritation. He realized the disruption was due to Méaróg wanting to show him something. There was a large, circular hole in the ground before him. Méaróg received a questioning look and insistently pointed down into the hole. He was attempting to cheer his brother up, and the only thing he could think of was to introduce him to his newest friend.

Aran rolled his eyes, not having a clue what Méaróg wanted. He glanced around, noting the sky was painted in gorgeous pinks and oranges. Squatting down, he looked down into the hole. It was large, and Aran realized it would be better classified as a cove. There was a lake being fed by a waterfall, and its surface was smooth as glass. It was a pleasant little location, but Aran’s eyes were drawn to the two figures standing within a large scribble in the dirt. Aran’s eyes widened as he spotted Hiccup with his hand against the snout of what he could only assume was the night fury he’d shot down.

The flaps by the night fury’s face twitched, and the connection between it and Hiccup was broken as it turned to face Aran. Its eyes were slits, and it growled up at him. When Hiccup spotted him, his eyes widened in panic, likely trying to think of a way to explain this situation. Aran tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Hiccup, the boy who’d strived to kill dragons his entire life, had befriended the night fury without telling him. He put his hand on his head, glancing around in search of a way to enter the cove. Spotting a small gap in the stone, he darted out of view and towards where he suspected he would find this gap.

“... Oh jeeze, this was  _ not _ supposed to happen, what am I supposed to tell him?” Hiccup rambled in the night fury’s general direction. He was thinking of calling him Toothless. It seemed fitting. “Like- Oh yeah, I’m friends with the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, no big deal.” He groaned, unaware that Aran could hear him.

“You could’ve told me.” Aran said, ducking under a shield stuck between the rocks. He kicked it from the other side, and it clattered to the ground outside of the cove. Hiccup jumped. “I’ve never acted like I wanted to kill dragons. They aren’t monsters.”

“You- you aren’t mad?” Hiccup blinked several times, disbelieving. Every argument he’d attempted to craft in his head fizzled away.

“Well, I’m mad you didn’t tell me about it.” Aran huffed, then looked over at Toothless with wonder. The black dragon was hiding behind a boulder, barely peeking his head out.

“His name is Toothless.” Hiccup told him.

“He’s beautiful.” Aran responded, a smile stretching across his face. He crouched down, holding his hand out in Toothless’s direction. A sound quite difficult to describe left him, though it could very easily be labelled as a sound to attract a feline.

“He’s not a cat.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. Toothless crept towards Aran’s open palm. “Or… maybe he is.” He blinked.

“A big, scaly, flying cat.” Aran laughed, his grin growing wider as Toothless nudged his fingers. A part of him wondered where Méaróg was, but he supposed he probably got distracted by a bird or something like that.

“Well, I don’t know if he can fly.” Hiccup admitted. “He hasn’t left this cove since I shot him down.” His eyes were drawn to Toothless’s missing tailfin.

“Poor thing…” Aran said, scratching him beneath the chin. “ We’ll get you out of here, don’t you worry. ” He smiled at the night fury. Like Méaróg, he seemed to understand what his words meant, and he purred softly.

“What was that?” Hiccup asked.

“Just a promise I hope I can keep.” Aran responded lightly, standing from his crouch. “It’s getting late, though. We should head back before anyone gets suspicious.”

“Y-yeah…” Hiccup imagined what the others would do if they discovered Toothless, and he shuddered.

The two of them made their way back to town, going their separate ways. Aran slept soundly that night, despite what had happened during dragon training. There was nothing planned for the next day, so Aran went to the forge upon waking up. He decided to test his skills in the forge by crafting his own sword. It took him hours, but the end result was decent, he supposed. Hiccup had always been better at that sort of thing. His sword could probably be better balanced, but he was just proud it was recognizable as a sword. Aran’s skills in the forge only went so far. He debated trying to make a shield, but decided against it.

Astrid greeted him when he arrived at Meade Hall for lunch, and Aran could only smile at her with discomfort. The image of her axe in the nadder’s jaw was burned into his mind. He hoped it would heal without getting an infection. The Irish teen elected to sit by Fishlegs instead, as Hiccup was nowhere to be found. Astrid gave him a suspicious look, likely trying to figure out why he had stopped being friendly with her. Aran ignored her, instead trying to focus on what Fishlegs had started talking about. It was probably interesting. He just found it hard to focus.

The rest of his day was spent sitting on the balcony he’d crafted outside of Gothi’s door. He dangled one foot over the edge as he began to sketch in his sketchbook. Berk was not a particularly beautiful town. Its buildings weren’t uniform, and half of them were destroyed. The hodgepodge of different materials and shapes that made up everyone’s houses gave it a unique charm, however, and Aran found himself enjoying the challenge of trying to capture its half-destroyed glory with a few lines of graphite.

It wasn’t until dinner that the group of teens and Gobber met up again. They weren’t resuming their dragon training quite yet, but they all had dinner together on one of the lookout towers. Gobber told them the tale of how he lost both of his limbs. After an odd ‘what if’ scenario from Fishlegs, Snotlout emotionally vowed to avenge Gobber’s ‘beautiful’ hand and foot by chopping off the hands and feet of every dragon he met with his face. The older man corrected him, saying he should go for the wings and tail. Hiccup looked terribly guilty upon hearing him claim a downed dragon was a dead dragon.

Aran could see the gears working in Hiccup’s head even before he got up and left the group. Astrid trailed after him, suspicious, but elected not to follow him in the end. She returned to her spot as the others spoke of Tuffnut’s tattoo (or birthmark?), but Aran decided to follow his friend. If he squinted into the darkness, he could just make out Hiccup’s slim figure turn the corner that led to the forge.

Lights were already lit inside by the time Aran got there. Hiccup was hunched over his work table, drawing out what was clearly a design for an artificial tailfin. He kept brushing his hair out of his eyes, and his tongue poked out from between his lips. His thin brows furrowed in concentration, not even noticing Aran’s approach. Aran smiled at the sight, somewhat amused that Hiccup was so focused. He let his hair down and approached Hiccup from behind, pulling his bangs up out of his face and tying them up with his own hair tie. Hiccup looked up with a start, turning to face Aran, who laughed slightly.

“W-what are… What are you doing here?” Hiccup asked, feeling the need to hide his work but not understanding why, as he knew Aran would likely help if he asked him to.

“Thought you could use some company.” Aran replied, trying to keep his laughter down. Hiccup’s bangs weren’t quite long enough for a proper ponytail, so they were just sticking straight up in the air.

“What are you laughing about?” Hiccup then put his hand on top of his head and his cheeks flushed pink. “H-hey!” He tried to pull his hair free, but Aran put his hand over his.

“It’s just to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. Nobody’s here but me, so it doesn’t matter if it looks a little silly.” He smiled at him. “Now come on, I’ll help you make this thing.”

“You’re gonna help me forge something?” Hiccup sounded disbelieving. It wasn’t as if Aran was particularly skilled with his blacksmithing skills.

“Yeah, I’m gonna help you forge something.” Aran responded, working his hair into a braid. It reached between his shoulder blades, and he wondered if he should cut it. “I can pump the bellows or something.” He added, shrugging his jacket off.

“... Thanks.” Hiccup smiled; it reached his eyes.

Aran found that he didn’t have much to do besides pumping the bellows. Hiccup’s small hands were much better with the finer details, and after crafting all the metal bits and bobs, Aran elected to let his hair down and sit on a stool. The building was warm, so he kept his jacket off. He was glad to have put his tin whistle in his jacket pocket at some point, as it now gave him something to do as Hiccup worked. Neither of them felt the need to speak with one another as the hours crawled by. When Aran tired of his flute, he simply hummed, too tired to try and remember the lyrics to the songs he was humming. He didn’t even notice when he fell asleep.

Hiccup had noticed his older friend drifting off, but he did nothing to keep him awake. He was already touched that Aran had bothered to keep him company in the first place, and he knew it couldn’t have been fun hanging around while he was focused like that. The older male had his back against the wall, his head leaned back. Red hair spilled over his freckled shoulders, and Hiccup idly thought it needed brushing. His cheeks and lips were full, and it gave his face a soft look despite the defined muscles of his body. Long lashes brushed against his cheeks. If one isolated his head from the rest of him, he was really quite pretty. Hiccup’s cheeks flushed at that thought. He forced himself to focus on the tailfin, not sure why he would be thinking of Aran in that light.

It was well into the night when Hiccup finished the tailfin, and he opened and closed it to test that it worked the way he wanted it to. Satisfied with his work, he glanced over at Aran. Earlier, he’d put the older teen’s jacket over his torso as the warmth from the forge tricked out into the night. Aran showed no sign of waking up on his own anytime soon, and Hiccup was impressed that he was able to sleep so soundly on a stool. He lightly shook his friend’s shoulders. Aran’s brown eyes blearily blinked themselves open, and he yawned.

“Is it morning already?” He asked, his words slurring together slightly.

“Well, no, but I finished.” Hiccup smiled, holding the leather tailfin up.

“It looks good!” Aran smiled back. “You still have your hair up.” He pointed out, and Hiccup laughed.

“I forgot about it, honestly.” Hiccup untied it, handing the string back to Aran. “Thanks, by the way. It helped.”

“Glad to know I could be helpful for something at least.” Aran smiled, standing and stretching. He shrugged his jacket on.

“Hey, you helped with the bellows too.” Hiccup insisted. Aran laughed and ruffled his hair.

“I know, I know.” His smile dropped a little as he noticed something. “Have you always had that?” He asked, and Hiccup didn’t know what he was talking about for a moment.

“Had what?” Hiccup questioned. Aran cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing over where Hiccup knew his scar was. “Oh, that.” He blushed, pushing Aran’s hand down.

“I’ve never noticed before.” Aran said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as Hiccup gathered his things.

“Well, it is pretty small.” Hiccup pointed out. “Gobber says I got it the day my mom was taken away.” He avoided Aran’s eyes. “I-I don’t really remember it, I was just a baby.”

“Do you miss her? Your mum?” Aran asked, a faraway look in his eyes as he stared outside.

“It’s hard to miss someone you never knew.” Hiccup said.

“God knows I miss mine.” Aran said, his lips tugging down into a frown. “When are you going to put Toothless’s tail on?” He changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the home he couldn’t return to until… well, he didn’t know.

“Uhh, tomorrow morning? Maybe?” Hiccup was caught off guard by that.

“I can go get fish for him.” Aran offered, figuring Méaróg probably wouldn’t mind. “He’s probably hungry.” Hiccup nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna… try and get some sleep.” He smiled sheepishly. “Meet up after breakfast?” Hiccup suggested.

“Will do.” Aran fixed Hiccup’s hair, as he’d never bothered to fix it after it was messed up. “See ya, Hic.”

The two of them parted ways, and Hiccup tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest. It was nothing, right? He just liked spending time with his friend and being able to be open about Toothless now. That had to be it. Hiccup realized he’d forgotten to ask Aran about the secrets he’d mentioned back in the Great Hall after their first day of dragon training. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about them, but he hoped his discovery of Toothless had built trust between them. He knew he would probably trust Aran with any secret at this point. Hiccup yawned as he shoved Toothless’s artificial tailfin under his bed. He could deal with those thoughts later. He wanted to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohjeeze I'm so sorry I haven't updated!!! I don't know why I didn't ahhh afhdhlf here it is though  
> I don't have much to say about this chapter? I have written Chapter 19 and started Chapter 20. I think I'm going to just switch to weekly updates. Maybe on Saturdays? I know today isn't Saturday but uh idk


	13. Something to be Scared of

Before going to Gothi’s to get a small amount of sleep, Aran went in search of Méaróg. The pink dragon was eager to get food for his friend, so Aran luckily managed to get a decent amount of rest after getting him a basket to fill. Gothi woke him up in the morning with the strong smell of a medical concoction. Scrunching his nose up, Aran dragged himself out of bed to look over her shoulder. He racked his brain in an attempt to determine what the purpose of it was. Gothi, for her part, tried to ignore him.

“ Cold? ”

No.

“ The flu? ”

No.

“ Allergies? ”

No.

“ The Scourge of Odin?? ”

Definitely not, you bumbling idiot.

“ Is it an energy drink? ”

Aran was finally granted a positive nod of the head, and upon further inspection he thought he should have realized that sooner. It was probably for Fainting Freda, to keep her so awake that she couldn’t possibly faint. He cracked his neck before going to check his reflection in the mirror he’d purchased with some of Gothi’s leftover herbs. It wasn’t that he was particularly vain, no, that was Snotlout. He just liked to look presentable. Aran ran a comb through his red hair, taking a small sharp knife to the end of it so as to clean the frayed ends. He thought he looked decent. Loose hair made him look like a girl, so he immediately tied it up with his leather strap.

It wasn’t especially early when Aran reached the Great Hall. He’d spent a decent amount of time on his appearance despite looking no nicer than usual. The only people his age in the hall were the Thorston twins, and he didn’t care to sit with them. Their brand of mischief was too much for him that morning. Gobber sat far from the troublemakers, his one hand holding some sort of meat. Aran approached him quietly, not sure where the boundary between boss and friend was.

“Mornin’ Aran.” Gobber greeted casually. “You certainly slept in.”

“Yeah, I was up late last night.” Aran shrugged, taking that as an invitation to sit across from him. “Hiccup was working on another one of his projects.”

“Ah, not one of those contraptions…” Gobber looked exasperated just by the mention of Hiccup’s inventions. Aran laughed a little.

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t ever have to deal with it.” Aran took a bite from his toast. It wasn’t particularly warm or cold.

“Good. The last thing I need with the Chief gone is more trouble. I already have to deal with the twins!” Gobber took a vigorous bite of his chicken.

“He won’t be any trouble, I swear. He’s been a lot better since I’ve been around, from what you’ve told me.” Aran pointed out.

“True, true. You’re a good influence on him, y’know? I’m glad you two’ve made friends.” Gobber smiled. Aran smiled back.

“Well, we were both lonely.” He said. “You must care about him a lot.”

“He’s like a nephew.” Gobber chuckled. “He needed someone his own age to talk to, though. I can’t be his uncle, father figure, boss, teacher, and friend all at once. There’s a difference between family, friends, and work.”

“... Family, huh?” Aran sipped his water, his eyes drifting somewhere far off in the distance. He thought of somewhere decidedly south.

“You must miss yours.” Gobber said. “I remember when my mother passed. She went out with a bang. Took down a zippleback.”

“Yeah, I miss mine. They were just farmers, but they were- well, are nice.” Aran smiled softly. “I hope I can see them again.”

“You’ll get your chance one day.” Gobber would have patted him on the back, had they been sitting next to each other. “For now, you just have to keep moving forward and hope for the best. It’s all anyone can ever do.” Aran nodded.

“You’re right. Thanks, Gobber.” The Irish teen smiled, standing from his seat.

“I’ll be here all week.” Gobber joked, and Aran laughed.

He put his dishes where the dirty dishes went, and headed toward the cove. Méaróg should have been finished filling the basket Aran provided. Aran just needed to find him and take it to the cove. It was possible Hiccup was already waiting for him, or had overslept. Either way, Aran went to find his brother. Now that he knew about Toothless, it was only fair to tell Hiccup about Méaróg. Méaróg wasn’t hard to find. The desert wraith had decided to take a nap after filling the basket, and was right where Aran left him. They went to the cove after Aran shook him awake.

Hiccup was sitting on a rock near the entrance of the cove, dragging a stick through the dirt. He had the completed tailfin propped up beside him, and looked up upon hearing a loud Irish curse word. Aran wasn’t quite within view yet, but Hiccup knew it had to be him. Who else would be cursing in Irish in the middle of the woods? The only other Irish speaker he knew was his father, and his father was neither on the island or likely to curse in Irish whilst in the woods. What surprised him was not the twigs in Aran’s hair, but the light pink dragon behind him. It had a basket of fish strapped to it.

“Ar-Aran?” Hiccup spoke cautiously, getting to his feet.

“Oh, hey Hiccup. This is Méaróg.” Aran said, as if he weren’t just casually bringing a dragon along. “He’s my brother.” He added.

“Sorry, what?” Hiccup stared at him blankly.

“I found his egg when I was four. I can tell you the story later.” Aran waved him off. “Now come on, I’m sure Toothless is hungry.”

“R-right.” Hiccup nodded, quickly walking ahead, into the cove.

“ Hey, give me that. ” Aran said, and it took Hiccup a moment to realize he was talking to his dragon. He pulled the basket of fish onto his back, and Méaróg went to enter the cove from above as the entrance was too small for him.

“Hey, uh, Toothless?” Hiccup called out, still somewhat bewildered by his friend’s dragon. “We brought breakfast! I, um, hope you’re hungry?”

“ Plenty o’ fish right here for you. ” Aran told the dragon as he dropped the basket onto the ground and kicked it over, spilling the contents onto the ground. “Oh, wait, how’d that get in here?”

“How’d what get in where?” Hiccup blinked, looking at Aran.

“It’s an eel.” Aran held it up, black and yellow striped. Hiccup tried not to be disgusted by all the slimy fish. “Méaróg doesn’t even eat these.”

“Huh… Weird.” Hiccup took it from him, holding it up in Toothless’s direction. Toothless snarled. “Yeah, I don’t really like eel much either.” He said, tossing the eel into the lake.

Aran sat on the ground and watched Toothless devour the bounty of fish he’d been given. Hiccup snuck around back to attach the tail, and Aran hummed as he pulled his sketchbook out from inside of his jacket. He’d added the inner pocket thanks to inspiration from Hiccup’s own vest. The Irish teen sketched Toothless, and Méaróg rolled around in the dirt. It took Hiccup some trial and error to attach the tailfin, and Aran barely had to warn him before Toothless took flight. After a terrifying few minutes, the two of them crash landed in the lake, and Aran rushed to the edge of the water.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah!” Hiccup shouted as he surfaced, not actually having heard his friend.

“Get out of the water, you idiot!” Aran shouted at him, and Hiccup was startled by how cross he sounded.

“Did you  _ see _ that?” Hiccup asked as he swam to shore, eyes wide from the adrenaline and a grin stretched across his face. “I was _ flying! _ That was-”

“That was  _ terrifying. _ ” Aran pulled him into a tight hug as soon as he was out of the water, and Hiccup felt his cheeks flush. A hand wound its way into his wet hair.

“A-Aran?” Hiccup questioned, and Aran pulled away to look at him.

“You’re not hurt, are you? Nothing’s broken or dislocated? You can breathe alright?” Though he was asking the questions, he was also checking for the answers himself, so Hiccup felt no need to acknowledge them.

“Are you okay?” Hiccup asked, and Aran sighed, turning away from him.

“Sorry, yeah, I just…” Aran sat on a decently sized rock. Hiccup joined him, as the rock was big enough for two. “I’ve only flown once. It was two years ago, and it’s the whole reason I got stuck here in the first place.”

“Oh…” Hiccup tried to think back to that day. Aran had been in awful shape, but he didn’t remember the specifics. “You never tried again?” He asked.

“God, no. I’m terrified.” Aran sighed. “It’s pathetic.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” Hiccup told him, awkwardly patting his shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure how to comfort people, as he hadn’t had much experience on that front.

“You seemed to enjoy it, though.” Aran said, putting his hand on Hiccup’s before he could pull it away. Hiccup felt his heart speed up slightly, and tried to ignore it.

“W-well I mean, it’s okay I guess.” He mumbled.

“If you can learn to fly Toothless, I’ll try again too.” Aran smiled at him. “Let’s just be safe, alright?” Hiccup smiled back.

“Alright.” Hiccup was pulled into another hug, and he hugged back this time.

“Now come on, we’re both going to get sick if we don’t dry off.” Aran laughed, and the two of them got up to leave the cove.

They walked without saying anything to each other. Toothless and Meáróg had been left alone in cove, as it appeared the two would keep themselves busy. Aran wasn’t generally a quiet person, and it would have concerned Hiccup had he not intertwined their fingers early into the walk. He probably just needed some silent comfort, Hiccup told himself. The fear of flying was valid, with what little Hiccup knew of his situation. Questions attempted to worm their way out of his mouth, but he reigned in his curiosity out of respect for his friend. Instead, he tried to focus on the forest around and ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest.

Aran was mentally berating himself. He was always telling himself he had to be strong for Hiccup, yet here he was allowing himself to be comforted. The warmth from their hands shouldn’t have felt necessary, and yet it had. It was a sort of emotional anchor in the moment, and Aran hated it. He vowed to never have another breakdown like that in the future. Hiccup didn’t need to worry about him on top of everything else. The walk back to Hooligan Village was long, and Aran finished collecting his thoughts about halfway through.

“I said I was four, when I found Meáróg.” He said out of nowhere, and Hiccup nearly tripped over a tree root.

“O-oh yeah?” Hiccup looked up at him, wondering why he would be telling him this story now.

“My mum and I were exploring the beach even though there was a storm coming. She said I  _ begged _ her to come with me because I wanted to explore so bad.” Aran smiled fondly at the memory. “When I found his egg, it was clutched in his mother’s claws. She was dead.”

“And your mom just… adopted him?” Hiccup’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, no, I begged her. Again. I supposed I did a lot of begging back then.” Aran laughed. “I just really wanted a sibling. Didn’t even stop to think that dragons had a sort of bad reputation.”

“And she just…” Hiccup blinked several times, shocked that anyone would just casually take a dragon egg in.

“We never had to deal with dragons, back in my hometown.” Aran explained, adjusting his hair with his free hand before realizing he really didn’t need to keep holding his hand. Hiccup was disappointed when he untangled their fingers. “Sure, we had tales from travelers, but the most dragon action we ever saw before Meáróg was a wild dragon passing by because it was a little lost. They never did any harm to our little town”

“I didn’t realize dragons weren’t an issue for you guys.” Hiccup commented, not really expecting a response to it.

“We raised him like a part of the family, and he never grew violent. He was always my best friend.” Aran sighed. “I lost a lot of my friends a while ago thanks to…” He trailed off.

“Thanks to…?” Hiccup prompted, hoping for an answer.

“... I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it, sorry.” Aran shook his head. “It’s my last secret though, I promise.”

“Well, alright…” Hiccup wondered what sort of secret he could have that would be so difficult to tell.

“Meáróg never left me.” Aran continued. “I barely talked to anyone in my village by the time I turned fifteen.”

“Wasn’t that when you got your scar?”

“Meáróg actually saved my life that night.” Aran said, nodding. “He got me to my parents just in time. I recovered for a few weeks before I went stir crazy and tried to fly, but we got caught in a bad storm and wound up here.” He sighed.

“How come neither of you realized the storm was coming?” Hiccup asked.

“I don’t know, it seemed so sudden at the time… Maybe I was just out of it. I know I wasn’t fully healed at the time.” Aran struggled to think back to it. “And Meáróg has bad eyesight. He should’ve been able to smell it or something though…”

“Maybe there was a skrill nearby. Those can cause sudden lightning storms.” Hiccup suggested.

“Maybe.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m really impressed by you, y’know.” Aran said as the trees began to thin.

“Y-you are?” Hiccup’s cheeks flushed at the sudden praise.

“Befriending a wild dragon? I could never do that. And your inventions are  _ incredible _ .” Aran smiled at him. “I don’t think Chief Stoick could’ve gotten a better son if he tried.”

Hiccup was left speechless at that, and Aran pulled him into a tight, lasting hug. When they resumed walking, the flush remained in Hiccup’s cheeks. Aran asked what his plans were, and Hiccup could only shrug. He hadn’t thought that far ahead in his day. They had dragon training after lunch, but there were still a couple hours before that for relaxation. It was shaping up to be a surprisingly sunny day, so Aran suggested laying out in the grass near Meade Hall after both of them changed into dry clothes. Hiccup shrugged, deciding he could probably work on things in his book. Him and Aran’s previous talk of learning to fly had put ideas into his head of crafting a saddle for Toothless.

After meeting up again, Aran decided to shed his jacket and long-sleeve to take a short nap with his face to the sun. He would have even more freckles soon. Upon waking, he decided to pull his tin whistle out, playing a few lazy tunes. He hadn’t bothered to wake up, and his eyes were closed, but he had little trouble noticing when the sun stopped hitting his face. Aran opened his eyes as he stopped playing, and found himself looking up at a young girl who was perhaps four years of age. She had big blue eyes and a mess of dark brown hair that was probably supposed to be in pigtails under her helmet, though the only evidence of this was the pair of broken hair ties wound into her hair. The girl put her hand on Aran’s flute.

“Hello?” He raised a thick brow, and she giggled.

“Play the funny song!” She chirped, tugging at his flute. Aran tightened his grip on it.

“Which funny song?” He asked, lips quirking up.

“You know! The funny one!” She insisted, and Aran sat up. “The one Mr. Gobner sings!”

“Mr. Gobber sings a lot of funny songs.” Aran couldn’t remember any of them being appropriate for little girls. He glanced over at Hiccup and noticed the younger boy was absorbed in his drawing, unaware of the world around him.

“It’s the one that’s like…” The girl scrunched her big nose up, her entire face screwed tight with thought. “Well I got my ass and I got my skates, an I love my life with my ugly face!”

“Oh, honey.” Aran tried not to laugh, but the girl started giggling and he couldn’t hold it in. “Those aren’t the words.”

“But that’s what my brother says they are!” She insisted.

“Are you sure you heard him right?” Aran asked, shifting his fingers over the holes of his tin whistle as he tried to think through the pitches of the song he often heard Gobber whistling.

“Yup! And he’s always good at remembering stuff. He never forgets mama and I’s birthdays. Last year he sewed me this dress!” She jumped up to show it off, and Aran couldn’t help but be impressed by the craftsmanship. “And mama even told me he made my puppy!”

“He did, did he?” Aran smiled as she showed him the stuffed animal.

“He’s the best big brother. And he’s really sweet.” She gushed.

“Well he certainly sounds like it! Did you still want me to play you the funny song?”

“Mhm!” The girl sat on her knees, big blue eyes wide with anticipation.

Aran played the tune, and she clapped along to it despite having little to no sense of rhythm. Her claps were entirely on the wrong beats, and when she started dancing her moves were dreadful, but Aran couldn’t help but be charmed by the pure joy that went with it. The girl insisted he play more fun viking tunes, though Aran knew next to none of them. She sang them for him, and he mimicked her despite being positive she was off-pitch. When she ran out of songs, he played fun jigs of his own, and she eventually grew tired of dancing. As she curled up in the grass beside him to take a nap, he switched to a lullaby.

“Addie!” A woman called out, rushing over to them. “Oh there you are sweetie, don’t make me worry like that baby girl.” She picked ‘Addie’ up and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Aran. I hope she didn’t bother you.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it.” Aran’s smile was wide, though he vaguely tried to remember if he’d ever spoken to her before. “She was a delight. When she wakes up, tell her she’s free to talk to me anytime.”

Addie’s mother nodded and stood. As she walked off, she muttered something about feeling lightheaded, but Aran didn’t pay it much mind. Aran deduced it was nearly time for lunch, so he stood and stretched. Hiccup stayed focused on his work, but Aran thought it would be unwise for him to starve before dragon training, so he patted him on the head. The younger boy looked up at his friend, who smiled at him and said he couldn’t afford to get any skinnier. Finding no real way to argue with that, he put his book away and nodded. He idly thought Aran had a lot of meat on his bones in comparison to himself, but then, didn’t everyone? Most of Aran’s weight came from his muscle, however, and that made Hiccup feel…

Envious was the word he’d used in the past. Hiccup had a sinking feeling that someone envious of Aran’s toned arms wouldn’t be disappointed when he put his jacket on and covered them. Aran pulled him to his feet, and Hiccup smiled a little awkwardly at him. The smile he received in return wasn’t awkward in the slightest, and Hiccup wished he had his confidence. In the Great Hall, Aran pulled him to sit at an empty table with him. They were joined by Fishlegs, then by Astrid. The twins followed, and Snotlout was the last to join them.

Lunch was filled with the usual shenanigans that came with the group before they finally went off to dragon training. At the gate, Gobber informed them they would be working in pairs that day before handing everyone a bucket of water. Tuffnut was quick to claim Ruffnut as his partner, though Aran thought he’d seen her looking in Astrid’s direction. Astrid hadn’t made eye contact with her, and was unaware of this. She turned Snotlout down without even looking at him, and Fishlegs quietly paired himself off with Hiccup. Aran wordlessly walked over to Snotlout, not wanting to pair with Astrid as he thought of the blood dripping from the gaping maw of the nadder’s mouth. Snotlout gave him a surprised look, and Astrid frowned almost imperceptibly.

Training, for the most part, went as expected. A hideous zippleback burst out of its pen, causing dust to fly up around the entire arena and shrouding everyone’s vision. Gobber shouted about the effect of water on a dragon’s flame-producing capabilities, and told them the zippleback would be unable to spark and ignite its flame if one got the proper head wet. It was important information they should have known beforehand, if they’d bothered to read the book of dragons. That was a little over half of the group, so Aran supposed it was for Snotlout and the twins more than anyone else.

Speaking of Snotlout and the twins, the three foolishly wasted their water on each other. Aran rolled his eyes at their uselessness, shoving Snotlout and wandering away from him. One of the zippleback heads snaked closer to him, but he backed away, guessing the ignition head wouldn’t go near him unless he were within explosion range. His guess turned out to be correct, though Fishlegs had been too panicked to think this through upon being approached by this same head. He splashed it with water before being coated in foul gas and running away as fast as he could. Hiccup had the opportunity to throw water at the ignition head, but the zippleback held its head too high for his water to reach.

Gobber shouted his name with fear, but all of them were surprised to find Hiccup scaring the dragon back into its pen with nothing more than his own hands. He closed the heavy doors to the pen, wiping his hands on his fur vest before finally looking up and seeing everyone’s faces. The looks he received were that of shock and disbelief. Nobody knew how to react to what had just happened. Gothi was leaving from the upper levels. Hiccup awkwardly made his leave as well, and was quickly followed by Aran after he got over his shock.

“Hiccup!” Aran shouted as he caught up to him. “What in the world  _ was _ that?”

“What was what?” Hiccup asked innocently, and Aran laughed.

“How did you get it to do that?”

“Oh y’know, I just showed him how tough I am.” Hiccup flexed his miniscule muscles.

“Come on, seriously!” The smile on Aran’s face was infectious, and Hiccup gave in.

“When I fell in the lake, I found the eel floating in the water. I shoved it in my vest just in case, and got lucky when the zippleback was about to kill me.” He knew it was just a trick, but there was a tiny part of him hoping to instill pride in his friend.

“Oh, that’s good. I never would’ve thought of that.” Aran said, giving him a quick side hug that made Hiccup feel content with himself. “I bet all of Berk would be safe if you just put eels on your rooftops.” They both laughed.

“That’d give ‘em something to  _ really _ be scared of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost forgot to post this sorry  
> not really sure what to say in the notes yet  
> I'm about 10 chapters ahead in terms of writing this though, so that's good. I guess I could technically go back to bi-weekly updates but I don't really know how frequently I'll be writing when school starts on the 27th.


	14. Test Drive

Hiccup’s trick with the eel changed all expectations of him in dragon training. The other teens had started asking what in the world he did to incapacitate the zippleback so easily. He did his best to avoid answering, and dedicated most of his time to bonding with Toothless and working in the forge. Aran left him alone for the most part when he went to go see his dragon friend, but he would occasionally join him in the forge to keep him company at night. While there wasn’t much he could do to help with the actual crafting of Toothless’s saddle, Hiccup told him he was easy to bounce ideas off of.

Since meeting Addie before the lesson with the zippleback, Aran had grown more interested in learning fun viking tunes. He would ask around for people to hum or sing for him and dedicated his time to memorizing the songs. Any time the small girl wanted him to play for her, he was more than happy to. Sometimes she would bring her friends, and Aran couldn’t believe how much he loved children. His days were filled with dragon training and playing music, but he always tried to make time to spend with Meáróg. When he wasn’t busy with all of that, he would help Gothi out. Time seemed fly by, and it felt like only seconds had passed before Hiccup was telling him he was ready to go on a real flight with Toothless.

“Wait, really? Already?” Aran blinked, pushing his red hair out of his eyes. He was mixing a cure for a cold, as he’d told Gothi to get some rest that day.

“It’s been like a month, Aran.” Hiccup said, his eyes trailing to Aran’s very toned and very freckled arms. The boiling pot made the room significantly warmer than the outside, and Aran was wearing only his undershirt and trousers.

“Wow, seriously? That’s crazy. Time is crazy.” Aran laughed. “When are you going?”

“Well, I wanted to go now, but…” He gestured to the concoction Aran was slaving over.

“Right, right. I’ll be done in a minute, don’t worry.” Aran told him as he ground up some sort of herb Hiccup had never seen before. “You can sit down if you want.” He waved his hand in the general direction of a stool and Hiccup nodded, doing just that.

“Do you like working for Gothi?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s actually a lot more fun than I was expecting. I really feel like I’m helping out. It’s nice.” Aran smiled. “I like it better than working in the smithy, at least. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“You’re way better at that stuff than me anyways. I’m rubbish at making weapons and such.” Aran pointed out. “I like keeping you company and all, but I’d rather do something I’m actually good at.”

“What, you mean you don’t like spending eight hours trying to make a shortsword?” Hiccup asked, amused smile on his face.

“Oi! That only takes me six.”

Both of them laughed, and Hiccup let Aran focus on the potion. Aran hummed one of Addie’s favorite songs (or at least, it was the last time he saw her) and finished before too long. He shouted to Gothi that he was going to deliver the medicine and wouldn’t be back for a few hours, and Hiccup realized Gothi was upstairs. Hiccup also wondered if there’d  _ always _ been an upstairs, or if that had been one of the various things Aran had added to the small hut. He followed Aran to someone’s house, though he wasn’t completely sure whose house it was. Aran told him to wait outside, and the few minutes he stood there alone felt much longer than they should have.

After Aran re-joined him, Hiccup was the one to lead the way. They headed to the cove, and Hiccup recounted his misadventures in figuring out the proper saddle and tail mechanics. Aran hadn’t a clue what he was talking about when he started getting into the details, but he smiled and let his friend talk because it wasn’t as if he had anyone else to talk about this with. It also helped drive off his own nerves, as he knew he was expected to fly along with Hiccup. He’d tried working on his fear of flying on his own time, but hadn’t made much progress.

“And- hold on, wait here.” Hiccup stopped himself in the middle of his story and darted off the path. Aran blinked, staring at where his friend had just been standing.

“Okay?” He said, though Hiccup had left hearing range. With a rustling of the bushes, he was back.

“Here!” He exclaimed, holding a saddle out to Aran. “Meáróg didn’t have a saddle, so I took some measurements and, well…” His grin diminished, as he grew somewhat nervous.

“You made this for me?” Aran blinked, his eyes widening. He gingerly took the leather from his friend, inspecting it.

“Yeah, I just kinda thought, well, maybe you’d be uncomfortable without one, I mean, dragon scales are kinda-” Hiccup was cut off by Aran pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” Aran said, his warm breath ghosting across Hiccup’s ear. It made his cheeks flush and he shuddered involuntarily.

“N-no problem…” He mumbled.

The two of them continued walking, the cove only a short distance away from where Hiccup had hidden the saddle. His mind and heart were racing. While it was true Aran was an affectionate person, he’d never felt any of his affections shake his entire body like that before. That wasn’t the sort of reaction someone would have with a normal friend. With a normal friend, he would have probably just scrunched his nose up at the breath against his ear. He’d been avoiding it for a while, but at this point it was pretty hard to ignore what he was feeling. Aran was attractive. He was attracted to Aran. And being hugged so tightly to his body did nothing to help that.

Aran redid his ponytail to be higher and pull his bangs out of his face as they entered the cove. Meáróg and Toothless were wrestling in a manner Hiccup would call friendly. Despite the good 200 pounds Meáróg had on Toothless, he failed to win. Toothless didn’t seem to be struggling, and the two dragons almost seemed to have a conversation afterwards. Aran chased after Meáróg, who seemed to still be in a playful mood after wrestling with Toothless. The night fury was much calmer, and Hiccup stood by him as he watched Aran try to get the saddle on his reptilian brother. Hiccup sighed a little.

“What am I gonna do?” He asked the dragon, despite knowing he wouldn’t get a response he’d be able to understand.

Toothless nodded his head towards Aran and stuck a pose.

“I don’t think that’s how humans do things.”

Toothless slouched.

“Then again, it’s not like  _ I _ know anything about human courting traditions.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “I bet Aran would know how to date someone.”

“Yeah, I could probably get a date. You fancy someone?” Aran said from much closer than Hiccup had been expecting. He jumped.

“A-Aran! I, uh, didn’t realize you were done with the umm, the saddle.” Hiccup swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing his cheeks wouldn’t tinge pink.

“Yeah, Meáróg finally sat still.” Aran waved that subject away. “So who is it you fancy?”

“I…  don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said. His cheeks said otherwise.

“Aw, come on, I won’t tell.” Aran nudged him playfully. “I’ll tell you who  _ I _ like.” Hiccup’s heart sunk.

“Umm, Astrid, I guess…” Hiccup mumbled.

“Oh yeah? She’s cute. It’s kinda hard to be around her now though.” Aran said, thinking of her axe in the nadder’s jaw. He shuddered. “Well, I don’t actually like anyone seriously. Ruff is kind of cute though.”

“Great.” Hiccup huffed, glaring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Hiccup mounted Toothless. “Come on, nobody’ll see us on the other side of the island.”

“Oh. Okay.” Aran frowned.

Hiccup and Toothless took to the sky with no hesitation, and Aran envied them. His fingers gripped the foreign leather saddle tightly, and he had to take a moment before following his friend. In the sky, every part of his body was screaming at him to go back to the ground. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and his breathing was becoming irregular despite the fact that he wasn’t  _ doing _ anything yet. Meáróg followed after Toothless as gently as he could, sensing his brother’s distress. It didn’t take too long for them to fly to the far side of the island.

“You doing okay?” Hiccup spoke louder than he was accustomed to, due to the wind.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” Aran smiled at Hiccup, lying through his teeth.

Hiccup nodded, likely too excited about flying to read more into that. Aran watched Hiccup check his cheat sheet for his foot position, then glide in a smooth arc around him. The two of them went into a shallow dive, but when Meáróg tried to do the same, Aran panicked slightly and pulled up on the saddle. Meáróg squawked, startled, and Aran muttered a quick apology to him. The two of them landed on a large sea stack as Hiccup and Toothless flew past beneath them. Aran dismounted, kneeling and putting his hands on the solid rock. The surface was smooth from the wind weathering it away, and the cool temperature calmed him.

Aran watched Hiccup and Toothless climb high into the sky until they were nothing but a black pinprick against the clouds. They were obscured from view for an agonizingly long moment, and when they were visible again, they were detached from each other and plummeting. Aran mounted Meáróg once more, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning down so his body was as close to his brother’s as possible. There was no way he could get to them in time without having some sort of panic attack, but he couldn’t just do nothing. Fortunately, he actually didn’t have to. Hiccup had gotten himself back onto Toothless’s saddle, but they had picked up so much speed they couldn’t avoid the tangle of tightly packed sea stacks they were rapidly approaching. Meáróg flew above the sea stacks, following the sound of them weaving between the rocks.

The two of them had gotten through it without a scratch on them. In the moment, the only two choices were to work in tandem, or crash against the hard stones. They’d worked together, becoming one. Aran stopped biting his lip, wondering when he’d started biting it in the first place. It hurt a little. Was he bleeding? Hiccup let out a triumphant cheer, having survived that near-death experience. He quickly regretted the flame Toothless shot out. It didn’t particularly hurt, however, and he continued his test flight by going as fast as he could now that there were no obstacles. He’d forgotten Aran was there for a brief moment, feeling like a bird in the sky.

Meáróg followed as quickly as Aran would let him. They eventually joined Hiccup and Toothless on a larger sea stack that had no vegetation. Hiccup was putting a small bit of kindling together, and Toothless blasted it shortly after Aran dismounted. Meáróg left immediately to get fish, and Aran went to sit by Hiccup. He practically collapsed before he reached the ground, and he pulled Hiccup into a hug immediately.

“You need to stop doing that.” Aran mumbled, paying no mind to the soot he was getting on himself. The fire hadn’t hurt Hiccup, but it had dirtied him somewhat.

“D-doing what?” Hiccup asked, cheeks flushing as he awkwardly hugged back.

“Almost dying.” Aran frowned, releasing him from the hug. He began shaking the soot out of Hiccup’s hair, putting the strands back where they belonged.

Meáróg returned with enough fish to feed all of them, and Aran grumbled slightly about the seawater doing damage to the leather of the saddle. Hiccup reassured him by saying he’d used a type of wax that would protect it from such damage, and Aran thanked him as he stood to search for a stick to spear the fish with. Hiccup watched him with a soft look in his eyes and sighed.

Aran succeeded in finding the sticks and handed Hiccup a raw fish-kebab. He sat beside him once more, roasting his fish over the open flame. The smell was alright, he supposed. Toothless nudged his friend with his wing, and Hiccup swatted at him. At least he didn’t feel the need to regurgitate a fish for him. Hiccup wondered how long it would take the fish to cook. It was around lunch time, after all. He may be skinny, but that didn’t mean he had no appetite. His fast metabolism was somewhat of a curse, though he suspected he would’ve been grateful for it had he lived in a time when fatty food was more readily available. Aran sat to his side, redoing his ponytail.

The smell of fish attracted the attention of several terrible terrors. They had a small skirmish over one fish they stole from Meáróg’s diminishing pile. A greenish one tried to steal from Toothless, but lost the tug-of-war against the larger, stronger dragon. Toothless laughed smugly, and Aran thought he was kind of being an asshole. The terrible terror took this as a challenge, and reared up to breath its flame at Toothless, who puffed a quick bit of fire into its mouth. It deflated and woozily wobbled in Hiccup and Aran’s direction. Hiccup tossed a fish at it, which it eagerly gobbled up. The terror nestled up between the two boys, resting its head on Hiccup’s lap. He pet it cautiously, though there was truly nothing to be cautious about as it was already nearly asleep. It purred as if it were a cat.

“Aw, it’s cute.” Aran smiled. “I could see Gothi having one of these. Or, well, ten.”

“They’re really something, aren’t they?” Hiccup asked, though he was talking more about dragons in general than these specific terrible terrors.

“Yeah, they are.” Aran agreed, looking content. He had a gentle smile on his face, and his warm brown eyes looked even warmer as the orange rays of the sunset caressed his face.

“I think Toothless’s tailfin is kind of flimsy.” Hiccup said, trying to distract himself from checking Aran out. It worked a little.

“Oh, is it? I didn’t really notice.” Aran didn’t notice Hiccup checking him out either.

The two of them chatted as the flock of terrible terrors ate their fill of fish. Meáróg and Toothless were finished with theirs, so it was only fair that they got the leftovers. Conversation died off as Hiccup thought of ways to reinforce the tailfin, and Aran pulled out his sketchbook. He drew his friend as he was at that moment- deep in thought. Hiccup suggested they head back to the village, and Aran agreed, mentally psyching himself up for another flight. He hoped he wouldn’t have to fly again for a long while.

Hiccup and Aran went their separate ways, with Hiccup wanting to work on Toothless’s tailfin and Aran wanting to head to sleep. As much as he enjoyed keeping Hiccup company at night, that flight had taken all of the energy out of him. He’d barely removed his boots before collapsing onto his bed. The last thought in his head before he drifted to sleep was to remember the warriors had come back from their search for the dragon’s nest. He wondered if he’d be seeing Chief Stoick at dragon training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeeze, I'm so sorry for the late update;; I haven't been able to do my weekly testosterone shot so I'm kind of out of it and college started for me today  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Kudos are nice but comments are even nicer! I love my readers so it would mean a lot to me if you commented :')


	15. The Den of the Beast

The morning of the last day of dragon training found Aran bleeding from his nether regions. It was an unpleasant way to wake up, and he decided he was very much not in the mood for the dragon training. He spent the worse part of his morning bathing and washing his clothes. Vikings, he’d discovered, were actually ridiculously clean people. Stories he’d heard told of filthy savages, but he’d asked Hiccup about bathing early on and learned people generally bathed once a week. It was a surprising contrast from bathing only once or twice a year, as was usual in his hometown. While Aran hadn’t picked up the same rigorous bathing schedule as the rest of town, he had started bathing at least once a month.

Aran enjoyed hot baths. The climate of Berk was frigid at best, and while layers of clothing and a fireplace helped, there was something to be said about a hot bath. It was time consuming to prepare one, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying them. One of the more selfish reasons he wished vikings weren’t at war with dragons was so Meáróg could help him prepare his baths. The desert wraith’s flame wasn’t too hot, and the sand that accompanied it was perfect for keeping the water heated.

As he finally settled into the heated bath, Aran let his thoughts wander to the dragon training that would happen later that day. The two competing to win the ‘honor’ of killing the monstrous nightmare were Hiccup and Astrid. Gothi would be the final judge, but everyone else had already been eliminated from the running. Most of the other teens didn’t care about this, though Aran suspected Snotlout wasn’t pleased. People had begun making bets on whether Gothi would choose Hiccup or Astrid. Those rooting for the underdog generally went for Hiccup, but those who held their viking values in high regard would bet on Astrid.

Hiccup, for his part, didn’t want to win. Aran had spoken with him about it, and Hiccup lamented the fact that he was doing so well in training in the first place. Nobody seemed to realize his methods were entirely non-lethal, and while he enjoyed the popularity to some extent, it made him feel almost guilty. He’d informed Aran of the awkward conversation he’d had with his father the night he returned from his failed search for the dragon’s nest, and Aran wasn’t really sure how to comfort him other than offering a hug. Hiccup had accepted, of course, and the generic reassurance that his dad didn’t know what he was talking about was enough for him. For the moment, at least.

Aran hadn’t spoken to Astrid much since her successful injury against the nadder during training. Its jaw had healed up surprisingly well, but Aran suspected it was still sore. The poor thing was extremely skittish and even more hostile than it had been originally. Astrid was proud of this wound, and despite Hiccup showing her up in most lessons since then, she was determined to win. Her attention was focused solely on training, though she grew increasingly suspicious of Hiccup’s success.

Gothi had been secretive on who she was planning to name the winner of the training. She wouldn’t reveal anything to Aran, who grew anxious at the prospect of her picking Hiccup. He was frustrated by her lack of communication on that front. Perhaps she’d stayed secretive so Aran couldn’t try to convince her to change her mind. Perhaps she was scheming something. One could never tell, with the little old lady.

By the time he finished his bath, Aran presumed the time for dragon training was approaching. He couldn’t exactly tell from the sky, as dark grey clouds covered the sun, but judging by the direction of foot traffic it wasn’t an unfounded assumption. Part of him insisted he should go as emotional support for Hiccup, but he ultimately decided against it and made his way over to the cove. The path was now familiar to him, and the cave by the beach Meáróg used to stay in was largely abandoned in favor of Meáróg staying with Toothless. Aran entered the cove and was greeted by his reptilian brother lightly headbutting his stomach.

“ Ooh, not today Meáróg. ” Aran said, apologetic. “ It’s blood week. ”

Meáróg almost seemed to pout, purposefully collapsing on the ground and rolling over onto his back. Aran took a moment to scratch his belly, treating him as he would a dog. Toothless rested on the other side of the cove. He’d perked up upon Aran’s entrance, and squinted at him suspiciously as his smell was different. Aran walked over to him, and Toothless sniffed at him until determining he was the same person and not bleeding to death. Toothless returned to resting, and Aran found a comfortable seat by a boulder.

He spent time sketching in his sketchbook, drawing familiar things from his hometown. He found it difficult to remember them in great detail, and this made him frown. Growing bored of that, he played a few tunes on his tin whistle. It wasn’t enough to keep his attention, however, and Toothless’s laziness began to rub off on him. Meáróg nestled himself against the cove wall, and Aran decided to use him as a large pillow as he took a nap. He wasn’t the softest pillow, but he was better than a solid rock, at least. It was a lengthy nap, and he wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke up.

“I wanna know what’s going on.” Astrid’s voice said, and Aran thought he heard the sound of an axe being sharpened. He slowly peeked around the boulder hiding himself and Meáróg from view. “No one just  _ gets _ as good as you do.  _ Especially  _ you.”

Her stance was hostile, and Hiccup looked more than a little panicked. Astrid was bigger and stronger than him, and she had a sharp axe in her hand that she carried as if it were nothing. He backed away from her as she talked, as she continued to do the opposite, frightening determination in her blue eyes. Aran slowly got to his feet as Hiccup stammered uselessly, and he wondered how and why she was there in the first place.

“Start talking! Are you training with someone?”

“I- I don’t- I- training? I didn’t-” Hiccup looked from side to side, trying to shrink in on himself.

“It better not involve  _ this _ .” Astrid lifted Hiccup by his flight vest effortlessly.

“I-I know,  _ this  _ looks really bad, but… you see, this is, uh…”

As Hiccup tried to come up with some explanation Astrid heard branches cracking and gasped, throwing him to the ground and stepping on him as she walked in the direction of the sound. Hiccup grunted. Aran felt bad for him, and was unsure when he should reveal himself.

“Ahh, you’re right, you’re right, you’re right.” Hiccup got up, flailing his arms slightly in an attempt to draw her attention away from where he was sure she was about to find Toothless. He laughed nervously. “I-I-I’m through with the lies, I-I’ve been making…” He paused as he rushed to catch up with her. “Outfits! So, you got me, it’s time everyone knew.” Hiccup grabbed her hand to put it on his chest and hopefully grab her attention, which he was failing to do. “Drag me back, go ahead, here we go.” There was a sickening crack. “ _ Ow! Why _ would you  _ do  _ that!?”

“That’s for the lies.” Astrid said as she kicked him while he was down. “And _ that’s _ -” She dropped the butt of her axe on him. “For  _ everything else _ .” A fearsome growl caught her attention, and she snapped into a fighting position.

“Oh no.” Hiccup groaned, slowly getting back to his feet. Astrid made eye contact with Toothless across the cove and gasped, tackling Hiccup back to the ground.

“Get down!” She shouted, and Hiccup let out a yelp as his head hit the ground. Toothless bounded over and she jumped to her feet, hands on her axe. “Run, run!” She shrieked.

“No!” Hiccup jumped to seize the axe from her, tossing it away. It slid across the ground as he stood between them, holding his hands out to Toothless. “No, it’s okay!” He said to him, before looking at Astrid and holding one hand out to her as well. “It’s okay.” Hiccup turned back to Toothless, looking him in the eye. “She’s a  _ friend _ .” He said, even though she wasn’t, and had just tried to kill his best friend. Toothless calmed slightly at his words, and he turned to Astrid again. “You just scared him.” Hiccup insisted, holding him back.

“ _ I  _ scared  _ him!? _ ” Astrid’s breaths came out short, still running high on adrenaline. Toothless growled, and she flinched. “ _ Who _ is  _ him? _ ”

“Uhh, Astrid, Toothless. Toothless, Astrid.” He said, gesturing to them in turn. Toothless snarled at Astrid, and she shook her head before beginning to run away.

“Astrid, wait.” Aran revealed himself, standing in her way and grabbing her arm. She’d left her axe where Hiccup threw it, so he was pretty confident she wasn’t a threat.

“Ahh!” Astrid screamed. Aran supposed that was fair.

“Hey, deep breaths, calm down.”

Aran held her firmly by the shoulders, trying to get her to stop hyperventilating. Hiccup was off to the side, arguing with Toothless. Aran ignored them. It took Astrid longer than Aran expected to calm down, and when her breathing was more regulated he slowly released her. She didn’t look like she would run immediately, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to bolt again. He suspected she recognized that they needed to talk, and even though every fibre of her being said she should be running back to town and telling the chief, she also knew Hiccup could probably tell the night fury to kill her and she’d be finished.

“What in Odin’s name is going on here?” Astrid asked, voice shaky as she eyed her axe.

“God, where would I even start?” Aran glanced up briefly before picking Astrid’s axe up himself. He didn’t hand it to her. “Hiccup?”

“I, uhh…” Hiccup looked over blankly, not having been following their conversation.

“Is that a  _ night fury? _ ” Astrid asked, eyes wide, and stance defensive.

“Umm, yes, actually, yeah, it is.” Hiccup said, patting Toothless’s snout. Toothless glared at him, not in a good mood. “Aran, where’s…?”

“Umm…” Aran blinked, looking around. “I think he’s asleep.”

“Who?” Astrid asked, eyebrows furrowed as she disliked being left out of the loop. She was already on edge.

“My little brother.” Aran shrugged. A loud, decidedly draconic yawn sounded from behind the boulder, and Astrid yelped, adopting an uncomfortable fighting stance. Her eyes flicked to her axe, still held in Aran’s hands.

“Your brother is a  _ dragon? _ Both of you are  _ crazy! _ ” Astrid shouted, and Aran suspected she was about to run. He put a hand on her shoulder, keeping a firm grip on her axe so she wouldn’t try anything.

“I grew up with him.” Aran told her as Hiccup walked over to them.

“They’re really not what you think they are.”

“No. No, you’re both insane, and I need to tell Chief Stoick right now, and- and he’ll take care of this. You shouldn’t have won the dragon training. You’re just a fraud.” Astrid accused, slowly backing away.

“Astrid, please, just give me a chance to show you.” Hiccup insisted, Toothless walking up behind him. The dragon looked bored.

“Morning, Meáróg.” Aran said casually as Meáróg walked from behind the boulder. He yawned, and Aran let out a somewhat embarrassing giggle. 

“Ahhh!” Astrid screamed out them, though it wasn’t out of surprise this time. “You- you’re fucking crazy!” Hiccup jumped slightly at the curse, as he wasn’t accustomed to hearing her of all people do so.

“Astrid, please.” Hiccup said, holding his hand out to her. She smacked it away.

“And  _ what  _ are you trying to show me, exactly?” Astrid asked, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. Hiccup felt short. His slouching probably wasn’t helping.

“I need to show you that… they’re not as bad as you think they are. They aren’t just mindless, killing beasts.” Hiccup scratched Toothless’s head, and he purred.

“... Fine. You can show me. Just, don’t do anything…  _ crazy _ .” Astrid said, and Hiccup let out a breath of relief. He mounted Toothless and patted the saddle behind him. “Oh man, I’m already regretting this.”

“You’ll be fine.” Hiccup insisted.

“Shut up.” Astrid hissed.

“Alright.” Hiccup put his hands up in surrender, then made eye contact with Aran, who gave him a thumbs up with his free hand. “Toothless, up.  _ Gently. _ ”

Toothless spread his wings slowly. Aran wouldn’t call his next action gentle, and Astrid’s screams did nothing to change this perception. He bit his lip, looking at Meáróg and wondering if he was brave enough to try flying again. Aran breathed a heavy sigh and propped Astrid’s axe up against a rock, mounting Meáróg against his own better judgement. Meáróg let out a questioning sound, and Aran told him to fly carefully, at a slow speed, with no sudden movements. He tried his best to follow these instructions. Aran tried not to be utterly terrified.

Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless were a pinprick in the distance. Judging by the erratic movements, Aran guessed things weren’t going as Hiccup planned. Just watching them nearly made Aran sick, and he tightened his grip on Meáróg’s saddle. Despite the pathetic speed Aran insisted on going on, him and Meáróg eventually caught up to them. It was as Toothless slowed, shifting into the gentle glide Hiccup had wanted from him in the first place.

It was sunset as they flew around the sea stacks Hiccup and Toothless had first practiced their flying with. They rose into the orange clouds, and Astrid almost hastily removed her arms from around Hiccup. A look of wonder spread across her face as she took in the view, running her hands through the mist of clouds. When they broke through the clouds, the light of the sun had left them, and they were greeted by a beautiful and endless expanse of twinkling stars.

An aurora surrounded them before there was a break in the clouds and they saw the town of Berk from above. It was dark, with pinpricks of warm, homely light shining from several windows. The large statues resembling Maces and Talons game pieces had their open mouths lit with powerful flames, and it was an incredible view. Aran glanced to Astrid and Hiccup, seeing the look of wonder in the girl’s face as she took all of it in. They veered away from the town before they could be spotted by anyone, intending to fly back to the cove.

“Alright, I admit it. This is pretty cool.” Astrid said, her hands resting on her thighs. “It’s…  _ amazing _ . He’s amazing.”

She reached down to pat Toothless’s neck, as it was the most convenient spot to pet from her angle. There was a pause, only disrupted by the sound of the ocean below. Aran distinctly felt like a third wheel. Fifth wheel? He wasn’t sure if the dragons counted. Either way, he wondered if he should’ve bothered following them in the first place. Trying to find some reason to be there, he thought of something to talk about.

“Did you say Hiccup won the dragon training?” Aran asked, loud enough to be heard as Meáróg flew closer to them. Hiccup looked down, and Astrid nodded, turning to face Aran.

“His final exam is tomorrow.” She told him, brows furrowing, then turned to Hiccup. “What are you going to do?”

“I- I don’t know.” Hiccup admitted. Foreign hisses could be heard from around, almost seeming to echo through the clouds. Aran looked down to Toothless, whose eyes had turned to slits. He dove suddenly, and Astrid yelped. “Toothless, what’s happening?” Hiccup asked.

“ Uh, go follow them? ” Aran requested of his brother, and Meáróg made a somewhat confused sound before diving as well. “ Not that fast, not that fast! ” Aran yelped, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat as Meáróg levelled out. “ Oh Lord above, I hate flying more than there are angels in Heaven. ” Aran muttered, furrowing his brows and leaning his head back, trying to force his breathing back to normal.

He wiped sweat from his brow before making himself focus. There was fog all around, and he was certain Meáróg could see even less than he could. The desert wraith sniffed for Toothless’s scent, but only made a sound of confusion as he couldn’t distinguish it from the dragons they were now surrounded by. Growls and shrieks came from all directions, and Aran leaned down, pressing his body against Meáróg. He squinted through the mist, trying to make out Toothless’s shape in the vague mass of grey all around. Aran spotted what he thought was Toothless and quickly pointed him out to Meáróg, who sped up to fly directly above him.

Aran tried and failed not to let out a yelp as Meáróg followed the mass of dragons into a steep dive. The fog began thinning out, and the air around heated. They approached what Aran thought was a volcano, and he berated himself for thinking the heat was nice. Meáróg was forced to speed up to keep in line with Toothless, and Aran closed his eyes again, whimpering. He tried to ignore the fact that his entire body was shaking, and his shoulder ached from where it had been dislocated when he’d first arrived on Berk. The ache was probably just mental, but he felt it all the same.

His sweating got worse, thanks to the heat of the volcano. It was sweltering and dry, and Aran found himself feeling parched as he tried to wipe sweat from his face. Hiccup was speaking, but he had a hard time focussing on anything. The night fury landed on a small ledge, and Meáróg followed suit. Aran kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on his heartbeat and calm down. It was hard to take in everything that was happening when his body was very insistently telling him he needed to be on solid ground. He hoped he never had to fly again after this, and the lack of movement helped his stomach stop churning.

Aran had barely calmed down enough to notice the colossal dragon in lake of lava below when it lunged at Meáróg and Toothless. Both dragons had enough instinct and common sense to take flight, and Aran bit his lip so hard in his attempt to keep himself from screaming that he tasted blood. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed himself as close to Meáróg as he possibly could, trying to focus entirely on the familiar scent and feel of his scales as well as ignore the metallic taste in his mouth. Aran wasn’t sure when they escaped the cacophony of terrified dragon screeching, but when he finally sat up straight they were already approaching the cove.

They landed in the familiar location, and Aran dismounted as quickly as he could, paying no attention to the conversation Hiccup and Astrid were having. His legs were shaking so much he had to lean all his weight on Meáróg, who crooned at him with concern. He found himself unable to blink, staring at the reflection of the moon in the lake. It was full, and beautiful, but he couldn’t register its beauty.

“Aran, are you alright?” A hand touched his arm and he flinched, whipping his head to look at its owner. It was Hiccup.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Aran said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Just bit my lip is all.”

“You’re crying.” Astrid said, crossing her arms in a casual manner as she walked over to the two of them. Aran touched his cheek. It seemed he was.

“Oh.” He said simply, as he had no other response for her. “I’m not upset or anything.” Hiccup frowned, and Aran sent him a questioning look, but he only shook his head and gestured to Astrid. She didn’t notice.

“Well, try not to worry us like that.” She said, giving him the most gentle punch in the arm he’d ever received. “And thanks for making me stay.” Astrid pulled him into a hug, and Aran took a moment to hug back.

“Yeah…”

He wondered if he were blushing, then wondered why he was wondering that. He didn’t like Astrid. She was attractive, but he didn’t really like her in that way. Astrid released him from the hug, staring into his eyes for a moment. It was longer than it should have been, and she moved her hand up as if to pull him in for a kiss, but decided against it. She nudged her knuckles against her chest as another fake punch before turning to Hiccup. The two looked at each other somewhat awkwardly before Astrid punched him in the arm, more seriously than she had done to Aran.

“That’s for almost getting us killed.” She said, then pulled him into a hug. “And that’s for… everything else.” Astrid pulled away and smiled at him before turning to leave.

“Astrid, your axe.” Aran said, picking it up from where he’d left it when they took flight.

“Oh, right!” Astrid smacked herself on the forehead.

“Your mum gave it to you, didn’t she?” Aran asked as he handed it to her.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, then Hiccup. “Thanks, both of you. And… good luck tomorrow, Hiccup. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Astrid left properly that time.

“You know, I feel like she used to be more violent.” Hiccup said, once she was out of range.

“Oh, she was. I told her to get a hobby.” Aran laughed, though it felt forced. He was steadier on his feet, but he was still shaken.

“Yeah? And what did she pick up?”

“Whittling, I think?” Aran said. “So now she’s skilled with a knife, too.”

“Ah, wonderful. Now she’s even more dangerous.” Hiccup joked. Aran’s smile was small. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Aran said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. “None of us got hurt, so everything’s fine.”

“But you were…” Hiccup trailed off, vaguely gesturing towards his own face.

“I honestly hadn’t noticed until Astrid pointed it out. I’m probably just not used to all that wind.” Aran insisted, though he didn’t meet Hiccup’s eyes. Hiccup frowned at him. “What?”

“... Nothing.”

Hiccup sighed, then hesitantly stepped forward to give him a tight hug. Aran wasn’t accustomed to Hiccup initiating such affectionate gestures, and it took him a moment to hug back. It had taken Hiccup more courage than he’d care to admit to hug him, but he insisted to himself that it wouldn’t be weird considering the fact that Astrid had just hugged both of them. He thought Aran needed a hug anyways, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t need one as well. It took a long moment for them to let each other go, and when they made eye contact Hiccup felt his face start to burn. He averted his gaze, taking a step back. That hug had been too long. He hoped Aran didn’t read into it.

“Are you scared?” Aran asked, walking over to the edge of the lake before crouching and searching for something. “About tomorrow. With the monstrous nightmare.” He picked up a small pebble, dissatisfaction on his face as he chucked it as far into the lake as possible and it landed with a splash. Hiccup sat beside him, hugging his knees to his chest.

“I’m terrified.” He admitted, though his voice was muffled. “You know I can’t fight it.”

“Yeah…” Aran chucked another pebble into the water before settling down from his crouch.

“They want me to kill it. What am I supposed to do?” Hiccup asked, sighing helplessly.

“What do  _ you _ want to do?” Aran asked, leaning back on his hands.

“ _ I _ want to make it so nothing dies.” He huffed.

“Then don’t fight it.”

“Y’know, me dying still counts as something dying.” Hiccup said. “I know I don’t really like myself all that much, but…” Aran lightly bopped the back of his head.

“I’m not telling you to die, dummy. Just… go in there and work your Hiccup-y magic.” Aran said, continuing when Hiccup looked at him without understanding. “Show everyone it’s not a mindless beast.”

“Yeah… I could do that.” Hiccup’s lips quirked up, and his face relaxed. “Show ‘em there’s nothing to be afraid of, if we just be nice to ‘em.” Aran smiled at him.

“You’re the only one who could do it.” He said, and Hiccup laughed bashfully, his cheeks colouring.

“I-I dunno about that…” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, I do.” Aran said, patting his shoulder. He glanced over at Meáróg, who’d just hit a rock with his tail, causing it to go flying and clatter against the wall.

“You know, I noticed Meáróg wasn’t affected by the dragon queen like the rest of the dragons were.” Hiccup said, also looking at the pink dragon, who was trying and failing to hide behind a tree.

“Oh.” Aran thought back to that. “You’re right. That’s weird.” He frowned.

“Maybe it’s because he’s not from around here?” Hiccup hypothesized.

“Maybe he’s already loyal to a different queen?” Aran suggested. Meáróg let out a joyous cry. “I wonder if he knows what we’re talking about, sometimes.” He chuckled.

“Well, maybe.” Hiccup shrugged. “I guess it’s not too important.”

“You know what _ is  _ important?”

“Hm?”

“Sleep!” Aran declared as he stood, the sudden movement startling Hiccup. “Big day tomorrow, you can’t tame a dragon when you’re tired.” The Irish teen helped Hiccup stand against his will, and Hiccup had to grab onto him to avoid stumbling.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go to bed instead of worrying.” He laughed. “Thanks, Aran.”

“No problem.” Aran waved him off. “Come on, you look exhausted, I’ll carry you back.”

Aran crouched down so Hiccup could get on his back. While he would normally object, Hiccup found it difficult to say no at this point, as he realized his eyes were drooping at the mention of sleep. Hiccup suspected he weighed very little, as Aran had no struggle in carrying him back to town. It was hours past sundown, so there was nobody out of their house. The chief’s son found himself dozing off despite the weather, and he wasn’t sure when he reached his bed but he was vaguely aware of something feather-light on his forehead as blankets were pulled over him. Somehow, he felt everything would work itself out in the end. He hoped he wasn’t horribly, terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is surprisingly long? It's 15 pages in Google Docs, though it doesn't reach 5K words so I dunno  
> I don't have much else to say right now, but I love comments so if you ever feel so inclined (I wish I could use the emoji with the two eyes lmao darn computers)


	16. We'll Fix This

Aran woke up to a sharp pain in his abdomen and was reminded that he was suffering thanks to his stupid body. He got ready for the day despite not wanting to leave his bed, and made his way to Meade Hall for breakfast. When he looked around for someone to sit with, he found his eyes drawn to Astrid. She was staring down into her cup, absentmindedly pushing her food around with her fork. Aran sat across from her. Astrid glanced up at him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, stirring honey into his porridge.

“... I’ve been thinking about the nadder I hit during training a couple weeks back.” Astrid said, looking back down at her cup before taking a sip. “You and Hiccup both looked sick afterwards. I feel horrible about it now.” Her brows furrowed.

“Well… at least she healed up well enough.” Aran said. “It’s a miracle it didn’t get infected.” He added, and Astrid sighed.

“I wish there was something I could do for her.” She said, eyes unfocused. “They must be so scared, locked up in those pens and only being released for us to attack them.”

“Yeah…” Aran frowned. “Well, Hiccup’s hoping he can change that.”

“Really?” Astrid’s eyes widened.

“He’s gonna try and tame the monstrous nightmare in front of the village so he can show everyone we don’t have to fight them.”

“Well, I’ll be praying for him.” Astrid said.

“You’re not the only one.”

The rest of breakfast was quiet. Neither of them knew what else to say, and they’d truthfully already said too much in such a public setting. Their voices had been quiet and nobody had been paying attention, but if anyone overheard them they would’ve had a lot of explaining to do. Aran told her everything would work itself out, though he wasn’t sure that it would, and went to put his dirty dishes where they belonged. He’d never met the people in charge of stocking the food in the Great Hall. He vaguely wondered if they enjoyed their job.

Outside, Aran ran into Addie. She hugged his leg excitedly before insisting he play music for her, and he was more than happy to oblige. It was a fun way to waste time and distract himself, but she was called back to her mother all too soon. He sighed, looking up at the sky. It was cloudy. Aran wondered when he’d see the sun again as he put his tin whistle away. He wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him. Now that he was fully awake and no longer had Addie to distract him, his thoughts wandered to a more negative place.

Just because he was sympathetic towards dragons didn’t mean he was foolish enough to believe one would never attack someone. Dragons were animals, just like a dog or a cat. Just like other animals, dragons could get angry. A monstrous nightmare locked in a dark pen before being let out into an arena? With over a hundred spectators and crowd noise from every direction? And a scrawny, terrified boy in front of it? It’d be a shock if it  _ didn’t _ try to kill Hiccup. As much as Aran believed he was the only one who could do anything to bring dragons and vikings to peace, he also knew this was a dangerous situation with a slim chance of the preferred outcome.

“Snotlout, Snotlout! Oi, oi, oi!” A familiar voice shouted, and Aran shook his head. A scream was heard, and seconds later there was a loud splash. “C-c-cold! C-cold! Oh Thor!” Aran realized he’d wound up by one of the beaches somehow.

“You alright there, Snotmouth?” Aran asked as Snotlout came into view, arms flailing furiously as he tried to get to shore as quickly as possible. The shorter teen pulled himself onto the beach, and Aran remembered with a start that vikings generally didn’t have swimming clothes. He averted his eyes.

“Y-y-yeah, just  _ peachy _ .” Snotlout sat up, rubbing his arms. “The w-w-water is  _ not _ nice,  _ why _ did I believe them?” He grumbled to himself.

“Believe who?” Aran blinked. His question was answered by cackling, and he glanced behind to spot the twins approaching.

“Oh man, what an idiot. Even  _ I _ wouldn’t jump in the water this time of year.” Tuffnut’s laughter shook his whole body.

“Yeah.” Ruff’s response fell flat.

“Jeeze, lighten up sis.” Tuffnut smacked her in the arm.

“Why don’t  _ you _ lighten up?” Ruffnut growled, retaliating with a kick to his groin and an elbow jab to his back when he bent down in pain.

“Ohh, I am hurt! I am very much hurt!” Tuffnut scrambled away from his sister, who crossed her arms. Aran blinked.

“You okay there, Ruff?” He questioned, somewhat concerned.

“I’m  _ fine _ .” Ruffnut glared at him, then turned to leave.

“It’s her time of the month.” Tuffnut whispered loudly when he thought Ruffnut was out of earshot. He failed to dodge the rock thrown his way, and was lucky when it hit his helmet instead of his face.

“Aw, poor thing.” Aran said, frowning. “That sucks.”

“Whatever. G-g-girls overreact to s-stupid stuff.” Snotlout said, his teeth chattering.

“She’s bleeding from her vagina.” Aran said bluntly, and had to hold back a laugh when the two boys screamed, covering their ears. “You’d be a total  _ baby _ if you were bleeding from your penis. She’s handling it pretty well, all things considered.” He added.

“Oh, my poor brain! I didn’t need to think about that!”

“Y-you have a b-brain?” Snotlout asked, though his face was pale at the prospect of bleeding from his nether regions, which he was now trying his best to cover. Aran hazarded a guess that his clothes were at the top of the cliff he’d jumped from.

He left the boys to argue and retrieve Snotlout’s clothes as he tried to find Ruffnut. It wasn’t too difficult, as all he had to do was follow the chain of destruction. She was already generally destructive on her own, but when she was in a bad mood it only got worse. Aran eventually found her rubbing two stick together in an attempt to start a fire. He wondered if the sticks were compatible before shaking his head. That wasn’t what he was here to talk about.

Aran sat beside her on the small stone wall she’d chosen, and she eyed him warily. He guessed it was her house she was sitting by, and this hypothesis was backed up by various signs of zippleback damage around it. Ruffnut rubbed her sticks together even more furiously, though her eyes didn’t leave him. Her hands slipped, and she cursed loudly upon receiving a splinter from the wood. Aran wordlessly took her hand and plucked it out, more than used to dealing with splinters and the like from his unofficial apprenticeship with Gothi.

“Snotlout and Tuffnut can be a little insensitive sometimes.” Aran said, surprised she’d even let him treat the fresh splinter. Her hands were rough and calloused, so he was even more surprised the splinter had managed to work its way into her skin in the first place.

“Well duh, they’re boys. Boys are dumb.” Ruffnut rolled her eyes.

“Tell me about it.” Aran rolled his eyes.

“You’re a boy.” She pointed out.

“Yeah, have you met me? I’m a fuckin’ idiot!” Aran exclaimed, and the two of them had a good laugh. “No, seriously. Who the fuck  _ accidentally _ crosses an ocean? Me. I’m the idiot who accidentally crosses a fuckin’ ocean, and now I can’t even do it on purpose.”

“Oh man, who  _ does _ that?”

“Idiots.” Aran nodded sagely. “Boys are idiots.” Ruffnut snorted.

“Tell me about it.”

“I don’t think I need to. You’re related to Tuffnut.” Aran remarked.

“Hey, no one gets to insult my stupid dumb idiot brother but me!”

Ruffnut shoved him, and Aran barely prevented himself from falling off the short wall the two of them were sitting on. The conversation they had was meaningless, and Ruffnut complained about cramping up, but the two of them had a fun time together. Aran suggested filling a canteen with warm water and explained how it would soothe her muscles and make the cramps more manageable. When questioned on his knowledge of the subject, Aran skillfully dodged the question by stammering and awkwardly mumbling something about his mum and vague doctor things. Ruffnut squinted at him, then decided she didn’t care enough to pursue the matter and rolled her eyes.

The two of them went to get lunch, and went their separate ways as Ruffnut decided she was in the mood to hang out with her brother again. Tuffnut apologized dramatically for taking her bleeding so lightly. Ruffnut threatened to make  _ him _ bleed if he didn’t shut up, and the two began scheming pranks. Aran chuckled at the situation before sitting himself next to Gobber. They nodded pleasantly at each other, and ate without speaking a word for some time. It was Gobber who spoke first.

“You know, I almost can’t believe it’s Hiccup goin’ against the monstrous nightmare this year.” He said, tearing into his meat before noticing his fake tooth had fallen out.

“God, I wish he weren’t.” Aran sighed. “It’s gonna eat him for breakfast.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine. He won for a reason.” Gobber pointed out.

“I know, it’s just hard not to worry.” Aran sighed again. He really needed to stop doing that. “Oh, and I can’t let him know I’m worried, because then he’d get even more worried.”

“That’s just how it goes when you care about someone.” Gobber chuckled. “Try not to worry too much. The chief’ll never really let him get hurt.” That caught Aran off guard.

“Really?” He blinked. “Hiccup never made it seem that way…”

“Well of course he didn’t! He’s only fifteen, the boy doesn’t know anything.” Gobber said, and it caught Aran even more off guard. “Chief Stoick cares about his son more than anything in the world, he’s just a stubborn boor who doesn’t know how to connect with him anymore. You shoulda seen ‘em back when little baby Hiccup would tug at his beard.” Gobber smiled fondly, sipping what Aran assumed was mead. Either Gobber had the most ridiculous alcohol tolerance in the history of ever, or he was just always drunk and nobody knew what he was like when he was sober.

“That sounds adorable.” Aran felt his lips twitch up, just imagining the scene. “It really is a shame their relationship crumbled so much.”

“It’s the stress of the job.” Gobber said. “And losing Valka. Hiccup looks so much like his mother, you know.”

“What was she like?” Aran asked. Hiccup had never told him much about his mother, though Aran suspected this was because he didn’t know her that well himself.

“Well, she was stubborn. The both of them were. Crazy, too! Kept trying to get people to leave the dragons alone.” Gobber sighed. “Everything was lively with her around.”

“I wish I could’ve met her.” Aran smiled, imagining a woman with bright, forest green eyes and a smile that could light up the whole room.

“You would’ve liked her. Most people did.” Gobber told him.

It was the end of the conversation, however, as Aran told himself he needed to find Hiccup before he faced up against the monstrous nightmare. He thanked Gobber for telling him about Valka before putting his dirty dishes where they belonged and leaving the Great Hall. Aran walked down the steps, only briefly thinking of where Hiccup may have gone before heading to the cove. It didn’t take him long to reach the destination, and he brushed his fingertips over the notch in the stones that showed where Hiccup had previously gotten his shield stuck.

Hiccup was sitting by Toothless, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Toothless’s scales. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and a helmet Aran had never seen was sitting beside him on the ground. He was mumbling to himself, though Aran wasn’t close enough to hear what he was saying. Aran walked over and sat beside him. Hiccup looked up at him, but neither of them said anything to each other. Not for a few minutes, at least. The sounds of the forest seemed distant despite being so close.

“... Hey.” Hiccup greeted, his voice quiet.

“Hey.” Aran responded. “You doing okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m pretty much fine with whatever happens.” Hiccup said, rubbing one of his eyes. Aran suspected he hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night.

“Well, you’d better not die out there. I’d miss you.” Aran smiled at him. “Now come on, if you stay here you’ll lose track of time and be late.” He stood up, holding out a hand for Hiccup to take.

“That’d be great. Imagine my dad giving this big speech and then I’m not even there.” He laughed, taking Aran’s hand.

“Everyone would be so confused.” Aran chuckled, then his smile dropped quite suddenly. “Did you get taller?”

“Did I?” Hiccup blinked, looking down at himself.

“You’re almost as tall as me now.” Aran pouted, and Hiccup smiled.

“Like you were tall in the first place.”

“Oi!” Aran took offense to that. “At least I’m still taller than Snotlout…”

“Oh yeah? And how long do you think that’s gonna last?”

“I give it a year or two.” He sighed.

“At least you’ll always be taller than Gothi.” Hiccup patted his shoulder sympathetically, and Aran mock-glared at him.

Aran waited for Hiccup to say goodbye to Toothless before the two of them made their way back to town. By the time they arrived at the arena, a few early spectators had already assembled. They waited at the entrance of the ring, by the raised portcullis. As the people of Hooligan Village congregated around the arena, Aran got the sense that Hiccup’s nerves were returning. He put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze. Hiccup smiled at him.

Chief Stoick’s speech was discouraging, to put it lightly. He had the crowd eating from the palm of his hand, and Hiccup feeling sick. Aran tried to distract him to the best of his ability, asking about the helmet he held in his hands. Hiccup rolled his eyes and told him it was supposedly half of his mother’s breastplate. That brought a strained chuckle from both of them, and soon, Stoick was finishing his speech. Astrid approached the two of them from behind, and Aran jumped a little. Hiccup, having been facing her, waved as casually as he could.

“Be careful with that dragon.” She said, and Hiccup sighed, turning to look up at where his father was seated.

“It’s not the dragon I’m worried about.” Hiccup said, and Astrid bit her lip. She nodded in understanding.

“Aran told me what your plan is.”

“Yeah…” Hiccup looked down at his feet. When he raised his head, his eyes were filled with a fierce determination. “I’m gonna put an end to this. If  _ anything _ goes wrong out there…”

“We’ll keep Toothless safe, don’t worry.” Aran smiled in a way he hoped was encouraging.

“Just promise us nothing will go wrong?” Astrid asked hopefully, though all three of them knew he couldn’t make that promise.

“It’s time, Hiccup. Knock ‘em dead.” Gobber said as he approached, saving him from trying to answer.

“Good luck.” Aran told him before he could walk into the arena. He pulled him into a tight hug, which Hiccup didn’t have time to reciprocate.

Gobber raised his eyebrows at Hiccup, a somewhat uncomfortably knowing look in his eyes. Hiccup’s cheeks flushed, and he pointedly looked away, putting his helmet on. He took a deep breath, walking into the ring and forcing himself not to look at the gate when Gobber closed it behind him with a clang. Cheering came from all around, nearly deafening him as he walked towards the rack of various weapons set up in the arena. He glanced up to see his father sitting in his large chair, Gobber already next to him and Gothi on his other side. Hiccup swallowed a lump in his throat and focused on the weapons in front of them.

The image of blood pouring out of the blue nadder’s mouth and onto the ground flashed in his mind, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to drive it away. He would not be harming any dragons today. The monstrous nightmare would get out of this unscathed. That’s what he told himself as he chose the dagger. He took a deep breath, brows furrowed as he picked up the shield even though he knew he wouldn’t be using it. He heard himself say he was ready, and he supposed he was as ready as he would ever be.

Thick, heavy logs were slowly pulled apart. The chains holding them creaked, and a hush fell over the crowd. Hiccup tightened his grip on the dagger, and felt his heart jump into his throat when the dragon burst from its pen in a raging flame. It scrambled along the perimeter, not even seeming to notice him as it searched for a way out. After what felt like much longer than it was, the monstrous nightmare descended from the chained dome of the arena and down in front of Hiccup. He gulped.

Backing away, Hiccup, dropped his shield and dagger. Confused murmuring came from the crowd, and Aran found himself muttering prayers under his breath. He watched Hiccup hold his hands to the nightmare in a calm manner, whispering soothing words to it. The dragon tilted its head curiously, narrowing its eyes at his helmet. Hiccup slowly removed it, throwing it to the side with a loud clatter. An audible gasp sounded from the crowd, and the nightmare’s pupils dilated.

Aran thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. Hiccup gave a short speech about how they didn’t have to fight, and he’d been so,  _ so _ close to placing his hand on the dragon’s snout when Stoick slammed his hammer into the cage, yelling to stop the fight. The metal dented with a loud clang, and the sudden sound set the nightmare off; its pupils contracted, and it nearly bit Hiccup’s hand off. It was all Hiccup could do to run from the dragon, and Aran’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted, grabbing the axe from the wall and propping the portcullis up.

Aran helped lift it up slightly higher for her to squeeze under more easily, but there was only so much he could do to help. He couldn’t fit under the gap himself, thanks to his thicker body type, so he could only watch helplessly as Astrid threw a blunt hammer at the nightmare to catch its attention. The look on her face was filled with guilt, but she shook her head, focusing instead on both drawing it away from Hiccup and not getting herself killed. Aran stepped to the side as Chief Stoick proved his incredible strength by lifting the heavy portcullis with seemingly no effort.

“This way!” The chief shouted, but only Astrid managed to get to safety. Aran put his arm around her. Her breaths came out short.

Hiccup scrambled away from the fire at the entrance, but could only evade the large creature for so long before he was caged under its claw. It almost seemed to laugh sadistically as it prepared to blast the scrawny boy with fire, and Aran bit his lip so hard he reopened the scab from the previous night. He had a feeling it was going to leave a scar at this point. A familiar whistle pierced through the air, and he shared a look of conflicted feelings with Astrid as he pressed his sleeve to his mouth. There was a plasma blast, and the arena was obscured with thick, opaque smoke. A tangle of flailing wings and limbs could barely be made out in the chaos.

As the smoke cleared, the vikings of Hooligan Village expressed shock and immediate recognition despite never having seen a night fury before. The whistle had been a telling sign, and there was no doubt that Toothless’s scales were dark as night. He roared at the nightmare, pure overprotective rage in his slit eyes as he stood between it and his best friend. Aran would’ve tried to get to Hiccup, had he not been on the other side of the arena from its entrance.

Toothless drove the larger dragon away after an intense bout of wrestling, and it slunk around the arena. Unfortunately for the dragon, it was seized immediately by the vikings pouring into the ring now that the shock had worn off. Aran ran over to Hiccup, who was trying to get Toothless to leave. Toothless, perceiving his human to be in danger, refused to budge, hissing and growling in every direction he could. The black dragon fought off every viking who approached, pinning Stoick to the ground and nearly ending his life before stopping at Hiccup’s scream

The look of confusion and betrayal on Toothless’s face was painful as his hesitation was taken advantage of. He let out a sorrowful warble as he was pinned to the ground and rendered helpless, and Aran had to hold Hiccup back as he begged everyone not to hurt him. Stoick’s helmet had fallen, and he maintained a glare with Toothless before commanding his men to put him with the others. It was only when he put his helmet on that he laid eyes on his son, and Hiccup flinched so violently that Aran worried for him.

Chief Stoick seized Hiccup roughly by the arm, and Aran could do nothing to stop him. He watched as Toothless was dragged in the opposite direction, and the crowd slowly began to disperse. Soon, there was no one left in the ring besides Aran and Astrid. He stared at the bloodstain in the stone from Astrid’s attack on the nadder. His eyes drifted, taking in each stain; each mark that marred the once beautiful stone. Aran shoved his hands in his pockets, thick eyebrows furrowing with frustration and anger. His mouth twisted into a scowl.

“This isn’t right.” He said to Astrid, who hovered hesitantly in his peripheral. “If the chief had just waited ten more seconds…”

“I know…” Astrid frowned, stepping closer to him. “It’s not right.” She agreed.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know.”

They left the desolate arena, so empty and quiet after the events that had just taken place. Neither of them spoke to each other, and Aran stewed in his rage. Astrid had a calculating look on her face, trying to think of a way to progress from the low point they’d reached. There had to be something they could do. There _ had _ to be. They didn’t know where to go, so they stopped walking. Aran picked up a stone and chucked it as far as he could off the ledge that looked over the docks. It managed to hit the water.

“Ready the ships!” Chief Stoick’s voice called out, and Aran felt his glare intensify.

“I’m going with them.” Aran stated.

“What?” Astrid looked at him like he was crazy.

“I said I’m going with them. If they’re getting the ships ready, that means Stoick knows about the nest, and he knows Toothless can take them there. I’m going with them.” Aran said.

“Then I’ll go too.” Astrid said.

“No. Talk to Hiccup.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know what his dad just said to him, but he’s going to need somebody to force him into action and I don’t know anyone better for the job.”

“...” Astrid stared at him for a moment before her gaze hardened and she gave him an affirmative nod. “I don’t know what insane scheme he’ll cook up this time, but I swear we’ll fix this.” She held her forearm up, hand balled into a fist.

“We’ll fix this.” Aran confirmed, making an ‘x’ with their forearms.

A glance down to the docks showed the warriors quickly getting ready for battle, and Aran ran to the smithy. He pulled his sword from where he’d left it last, though he was sure he wouldn’t properly use it, and fastened it to a sheathe he attached to a belt. There was also a nice looking dagger lying around, and he put it inside of his jacket before running back down to the docks. They were already almost ready to shove off, and Aran wished he had more muscle in his legs. He’d have to work on that. It wasn’t good to only have upper body strength.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Gobber’s voice caught his ear, and Aran turned to face him.

“What does it look like? I’m going with you.”

“No you’re not.” Chief Stoick said, his voice grave as he approached. “You’re only a child. This isn’t your battle.” Aran glared at him, his temper as fiery as his hair.

“ This became my battle when I first arrived on Berk. I’ve lived here almost three years now, and your people have taken me in like another member of the tribe. I’m already almost eighteen, so you can’t tell me I’m a child. If you were in my shoes, you would fight, so  _ don’t _ tell me I can’t go. ” There was a moment of quiet and Chief Stoick stroked his beard.

“... Stay close. I won’t have you dying on my watch.” The chief turned away, walking onto the boat.

“Well I’ve never seen the chief change his mind like  _ that _ before.” Gobber let out a low whistle.

“Sometimes I get really determined.” Aran said, rolling his shoulder.

He found fortune finally smiling down upon him when he learned he was on the same boat as Toothless, and the night fury looked at him with hope and fear in his eyes. Aran knelt down in front of him, placing his hand on his scaley head. He stood quickly as he saw others approaching, and when he looked up to the ledge him and Astrid had previously been standing on, he thought he saw her with Hiccup. Aran looked back down at Toothless again.

“ We’ll fix this. ” He muttered. “ I swear it. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hbbkdhbfsdk i don't know what to say about this but at least I'm posting on Saturday like I'm supposed to


	17. Coming Back Around

Aran quickly learned that him and boats did not mix. He’d been at sea for little more than an hour and all he’d done was sit off to the side and feel sorry for himself. If he got seasick this easily, he wasn’t sure how he could stick with his fabricated backstory. The only thing keeping him going was Toothless. The dragon was chained up a little ways away, though still well within eyesight. None of the other vikings wanted to get near him and that worked well for Aran, as there was nobody blocking his view. Aran swallowed, trying to force his nausea down. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy despite not even standing.

“ Aran, you’re full of shit. ” Aran told himself. “ And mistakes. Especially mistakes. Oh God, please help me through this mistake so I may return to land and never leave it again. ” He took a moment to pray.

“You alright there?” Gobber asked, and Aran opened an eye to look up at him.

“I feel like I’m dying. Why did I want to come? Why did Chief Stoick even _ let  _ me come?”

“You’re a healer.” Stoick said, his voice gruff as he joined the conversation. “We have medical supplies on the boat, and while I’m sure we could figure them out without you, nobody else in the village has trained under Gothi like you have.”

“Oh.” Aran was suddenly disappointed that it wasn’t his dramatic speech that had changed Stoick’s mind.

“And, you were right, you’re a grown man already.”

“Even if he’s _ horrible  _ at dragon training.” Gobber chuckled, and the accusing look Stoick sent Aran was intense.

“One has to wonder why _ that  _ would be, when he’s the oldest of the group, smart, and more than physically capable.” Stoick stepped forward and put his hands on his hips. The chief’s shadow engulfed Aran, and he felt microscopic.

“ Oh God, please save me from this conversation. ” Aran tangled his fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. Stoick looked unamused, and Aran remembered the man could understand him. “Er…” His eyes flicked to Toothless and he made an effort to flinch when he made eye contact with him. It was all an act. Aran needed to be a better actor.

“I’m waiting.” Stoick furrowed his brows.

“W-well, we just don’t have dragons in Ireland, I mean I don’t know about the rest of Ireland, but definitely not in my hometown, so I mean, it’s kind of, they’re kind of t-terrifying?” Aran prayed that he sounded convincing. Half of that was true.

“Ah, well, that’d do it.” Gobber nodded, easily convinced.

“I suppose…” Stoick frowned, not so easily convinced. He let the subject go for the time being, at least.

Aran breathed a sigh of relief when Stoick returned to the front of the boat, his back to the rest of the people on the ship. Toothless let out a miserable sound, though it was muffled thanks to the leather strap keeping him from opening his mouth. He didn’t want to lead them to the queen’s nest, but his instincts couldn’t be ignored. Aran felt horrible. The seasickness wasn’t helping his guilt for letting this situation happen, though he knew it wasn’t his fault. He exchanged a troubled look with the dragon and sighed, hoping Hiccup had more of a plan than he did when he hopped on the boat.

Hiccup did have more of a plan than Aran, in a sense. It wasn’t entirely thought out, but it was better than getting on a boat and hoping for the best. The thought of Toothless being in trouble gave him all the motivation he needed to briefly ignore all his social shortcomings, and he ran to the dragon training arena after his conversation with Astrid. He was going to save his friend. He just needed everyone to cooperate with him. The other teens _ and _ the dragons.

Snotlout nearly caused a ruckus thanks to his nerves, but Hiccup managed to get him to place his hand on the monstrous nightmare’s snout without too much trouble. The twins were quick to try for the hideous zippleback, though Hiccup had to help make sure they didn’t cause any significant damage. Fishlegs needed no help bonding with the gronckle, and Hiccup couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him trying to wrap his meaty arms around it. The only person who hadn’t bonded with a dragon was Astrid, and the only rideable dragon left was the deadly nadder she’d injured. It hadn’t even left its pen, despite the doors being open. Astrid stood several yards away from the entrance, staring into the darkness.

“She isn’t coming out?” Hiccup asked, though he knew the answer. Astrid looked over at his hand as he put it on her shoulder.

“No… I can’t blame her, though.” Astrid sighed, looking back into the pen. The sounds of mild chaos in the background seemed distant as they ignored the terrible trio. “After what I did…” She bit her lip.

“I can ask Snotlout if-”

“No.” She cut him off. “I would have chosen her even if she wasn’t the last one left.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. She’s beautiful, strong, poisonous, smart…” Astrid took a step toward the pen. “There’s so much more to them than I ever realized. I wish I could go back and change things, but there’s no point in thinking like that so all I can do is move forward and try to make up for what I did wrong.”

The nadder took a cautious step out of the darkness in the pen, watching Astrid with yellow eyes narrowed into slits. Her blue scales shimmered in the light, and the two of them shared an unreadable look as they walked towards each other. The nadder made a soft clicking sound in the back of her throat, and her spines stood as a precautionary measure. Astrid reached her hand out to touch the side of her jaw with the pink scar tissue, barely healed over. Her fingers scarcely made contact with the scales as she moved closer, stopping just short of touching the wound. She touched her forehead to the dragon’s snout and her next words were scarcely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

The dragon’s pupils dilated before she closed her eyes, purring. Her spines smoothed down, and she nudged her face against Astrid’s in forgiveness. Hiccup almost felt like he was intruding by watching, and he wondered if the sweet moment he’d shared with Toothless so long ago had looked anything like that. The thought of Toothless reminded Hiccup of his plan, and he went to the edge of the arena to get rope. None of them knew how to steer a boat or get to the queen’s nest, but Hiccup knew how to fly and the dragons would know where they were going. This was his only chance. He hoped Aran was taking care of Toothless.

As the viking ships docked at the volcanic island, Aran couldn’t help but shudder. Toothless whimpered, though both of them were glad the vikings were disembarking. Aran wasn’t sure how the latches were keeping him there, but he guessed there was probably a key. He wouldn’t be able to look for it until everyone was gone though, and he started trying to think of an excuse to stay on the boat.

“Stay out of harm’s way.” Stoick told him.

“Yes sir.” Aran nodded, not needing to be told twice.

“Look through all the medical supplies we have so you’re ready when the time comes.” Stoick nodded to the back of the boat.

“Yes sir.” Aran repeated.

Chief Stoick left and Aran thought that had been a little too easy. The Hairy Hooligan warriors went about setting up, and Aran walked closer to Toothless. He removed the leather strap keeping his mouth shut and put a hand on his head, trying to soothe both of their nerves by petting him. Toothless was restless, which was unsurprising. He whined and attempted a plasma blast, though Aran stopped him before he could reveal himself. He told him they couldn’t afford to get caught before he looked to see how the latches keeping Toothless in place worked.

They looked like they could be opened by brute force if all else failed, but not by the captive. Toothless’s wings were caged and his movement was limited. There were several spots that looked like keyholes, and Aran suspected the same key would unlock all of them and free the dragon. He searched around where the medical supplies were, his heart rate speeding up as he heard the vikings begin their attack. He was running out of time.

Aran spotted a keyring and heard Toothless struggling more intensely against his bonds. The queen was coming; she had to be for him to freak out like that. Aran’s hands shook and he dropped the keys before cursing himself. They fell between several boxes and he had to reach to get them back. When he turned around he saw the queen of dragons rearing to her full height, vikings on the rocky beach scrambling about. Aran froze, shocked by her size. The last time he saw her, he’d only been able to see her head in the dim light of the volcano. He saw her preparing to unleash a huge blast of flame and he barely managed to dive behind Toothless in time.

The ships were aflame, and Aran could scarcely hear the sounds of the battle happening over the crackling fire and the incessant rattling of Toothless’s chains. His vision was obscured by the surrounding fog and smoke, and he coughed after inhaling too much. Toothless sounded panicked as he struggled against his bonds. Aran’s eyes watered and he tried to focus on the keyholes, but his vision blurred with the tears. He couldn’t find the keyholes.  _ He couldn’t find the keyholes _ . Aran tried not to hyperventilate. The smoke was making it hard to do anything. He was starting to have his doubts that the keyholes still existed. Had the heat warped the metal that bad?

“A-Aran!?”

“Hiccup?” Aran looked up, thinking he saw a dragon but also wondering if he was hallucinating. He coughed.

“Astrid, get him out of here and go help the others!” Hiccup shouted as he jumped off the dragon’s back.

Astrid nodded her affirmation, and Aran regained full control of his brain as soon as he realized her dragon had picked him up in her claws. He screamed, scrambling to hold onto the most easily accessible leg. If Astrid sent him a questioning look, he didn’t notice. She made her next move to put Aran down and he apologized as he caught his breath, breathing deeply to get fresh air in his lungs. Astrid went to help the others in fighting the queen as Aran shook himself. He’d only been in the air for half a minute. He was fine. Nothing had gone wrong. There was no need to quake in his boots.

A familiar cry rang out, and Aran whipped around to see Meáróg flying towards him. A grin stretched across his face as the desert wraith landed beside him with a thud. Meáróg nudged him with his snout and Aran hugged his face, glad the dragon had managed to find his way to the island. Looking past his brother, he saw a single boat that had escaped damage from the queen’s fire, and Aran pointed it out to Meáróg. He flew over, returning with a single crate of medical supplies. Aran was pleasantly surprised as he ignored the wary looks from nearby vikings. He told his brother to check the waters for any people struggling to get to the shore as he scoured the battlefield for any wounded.

Thankfully, there weren’t too many serious injuries. There were a few broken bones he had to make splints and slings for, cuts to disinfect and wrap, and burns to treat. Otherwise, they’d suffered minimal casualties. After realizing Meáróg was helping save people, most of the warriors didn’t mind his presence; keyword being  _ most _ . Aran treated everyone’s wounds. Most of the supplies in the box had been used up, but there were still some bandages and salves. Looking up to the sky, Aran saw nothing but flames and smoke.

It didn’t take much thought to infer Hiccup had lured the queen into the sky. Nothing else could produce that maelstrom of flame, and nobody else would be crazy enough to try. Aran found himself holding his breath, and he watched as a large shape plummeted to the ground. The queen landed on the far side of the beach, causing an explosion that sent a wave of dust rippling through the crowd. Aran covered his face with his arm to avoid inhaling more unsavory substances carried in the air. In the distance, he heard Chief Stoick calling Hiccup’s name, and hastened to push through the crowd and find him.

Aran found Stoick cradling Hiccup in his arms. He gasped, thinking the worst before Stoick laughed and exclaimed he was alive. Astrid turned to Aran and the two of them grinned before they hugged each other. Everyone was clapping or cheering, and it took Aran much longer than it should have to realize he should be checking for any injuries. It didn’t occur to him until after Gobber had made a comment on Toothless only saving most of Hiccup.

“Most of him? What do you mean most of him?” Aran left Astrid’s side to approach. “Oh God, why have you taken his foot from him?” He asked, very sincerely, as he looked up to the sky. He’d prayed a lot recently, and wondered if God was getting kind of tired of him.

“We’d best get that cleaned up, before it gets infected and we have to amputate even more.” Gobber said.

“I know that.” Aran huffed. “ Meáróg! The box! ” He shouted back to his brother.

“Meáróg…?” Stoick questioned. Meáróg flew to land beside Aran, box in hand. “Ah. That explains some things.”

“ I think I’ve got enough to handle this… ” Aran muttered to himself before carefully rolling Hiccup’s pant leg up and getting to work.

He had to take a deep breath to steady his nerves. It was one thing to work on vague acquaintances, but it was another thing entirely to work on one of your closest friends. There thankfully wasn’t much Aran could do wrong with this, but the thought of messing up something important and accidentally taking his life was frightening. He wrapped Hiccup’s stump before looking up at Chief Stoick. The man’s brows were furrowed.

“Astrid, you’re the fastest rider, correct?” Stoick asked, his eyes flicking between each dragon in a calculating manner.

“Yes sir.” She stood at attention.

“Is there anything to write on in that crate?” The question was directed at Aran this time, and he shook his head.

“No, but I have my art book with me.” He pulled the journal out, along with the charcoal stick he used to draw. It had been a while since he’d done that.

“I want you to write these directions down in a minute. Astrid, you’ll give the note to the first responsible person you can find. I trust you know who’s who.” Stoick instructed.

Aran flipped the crate over to use as a makeshift table before opening the sketchbook to a blank page. He took his knife out to sharpen his charcoal. Astrid went to her dragon, who was perched on a high rock, further from the crowd than all the other dragons. She coaxed her down, though the nadder was wary of the other vikings. Stoick dictated the note for Aran and he wrote as quickly as he could, glad Fishlegs had forced him into learning the Norse alphabet two years ago. He’d say it was likely he knew it better than the Irish one. When he was finished he went over to Astrid, still off to the side with her dragon, as Stoick went about other chiefly business.

“Here, borrow my jacket.” Aran said as he approached, shrugging it off and slipping the note into one of the inner pockets. “The wind is gonna make you colder.”

“Thanks…” Astrid looked like she wanted to refuse it, but common sense won out in the end. She looked over to the crowd. “Do you think this changes things?”

“I have a pretty good feeling.” Aran smiled at her before pulling her into a hug. He was then immediately kicked to the ground.

“What the hell, Aran!?” Astrid’s cheeks were red, and she backed away from him.

“It’s just a hug…” Aran grumbled, dusting himself off as he stood up. “Most people  _ like _ hugs.”

“Well,  _ I _ don’t think hugs are necessary most of the time.” She huffed.

“Oi, you hugged Hiccup and I back in the cove that one time!”

“That was different.” Astrid said, mounting Stormfly and refusing to look at him.

“Oh, sure it was.” Aran rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, Aran.” Astrid smiled with false sweetness, preparing for flight.

“Fly safe, you damned hypocrite!”

He was pretty sure she shouted a curse back in his direction but he wasn’t positive. The other teens were sitting in a circle just inside the mouth of the cave that had been made by the attack. Snotlout was grumbling about Astrid getting to go do important things while he was left behind. Aran joined them with a yawn, sitting beside Fishlegs. The younger boy was both taller and wider than he was, and he found himself leaning against him as he started to doze off. It was getting late, so nobody could fault him for resting. Especially not after inhaling smoke earlier and running around to heal everyone. The boats Stoick was sending for likely wouldn’t get there until tomorrow, and while the teens could technically fly back on their dragons, the idea was unappealing after the battle. Everyone was at least a little tired.

Fishlegs asked Aran questions about Meáróg, which he answered to the best of his ability in his half-asleep state. Some of the older vikings were scouting deeper into the cave, as the cave floor would be more comfortable than the gravelly beach but they didn’t want to be attacked in the night. As time passed, the villagers and dragons relaxed around each other. By the time Aran finally fell asleep, Fishlegs still rambling about dragon theories, most of the wary looks were gone. It seemed like their battle was won on all fronts. For the first time since leaving Ireland, Aran felt almost completely at ease.

The next morning, Aran woke up earlier than he intended. There wasn’t any movement in the cave, and the only sound was that of the ocean outside and some vikings snoring. He stood and stretched, glancing around. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mountain of a man sitting by one of the fires the group had lit. Aran went over to him with little hesitation. He respected the man of course, but he also felt closer to him than most of the older villagers as he was the one who helped him learn Norse in the first place.

“Everything alright, Chief?” Aran asked, sitting beside him. Stoick looked at him before returning his gaze to his son. Hiccup was still passed out on the ground.

“… Yeah. Everything’s fine.” Stoick said. “The boats should get here within an hour.”

“That’s good…” Aran nodded, leaning forward to push Hiccup’s hair out of his face. “He really looks up to you, you know.”

“Hiccup?” Stoick seemed surprised, and Aran nodded.

“Of course. He’s only ever wanted you to be proud of him.”

“I am.” Stoick said, his face softening.

The two of them sat beside each other without saying another word, the crackling fire casting a warm glow on their faces. Chief Stoick was more relaxed than Aran had ever seen him, though there was an underlying wariness at the state of his son. Aran put a hand on his arm, reassuring both of them that he’d be fine. Stoick nodded, then looked around, his eyes lingering at the mouth of the cave. The dragons were outside, still visible and not awake. They hadn’t stayed in the cave the previous night. Dragons and vikings had only just begun to accept each other, and while there was a truce thanks to the battle, they weren’t quite there yet. Stoick asked Aran about Meáróg, and he spent the time left before the boats showed up to tell the chief how he really wound up on Berk, and how Hiccup and Toothless met. Something gave Stoick a look of nostalgia, though Aran wasn’t sure what.

After the boats arrived, they spent about an hour making sure everyone was there. The dragons flew above the boats without their riders. Toothless stayed by Hiccup’s side, as did Stoick and Aran. Gobber hovered nearby as well. Nobody talked much on that boat, but the others were filled with chatter about dragons, about how things would be different now that the war was over. It was only just starting to occur to everyone that it was  _ really  _ over. They didn’t have to fight the dragons anymore. There wouldn’t be so much death and suffering.

After getting back to Berk, Gothi was fetched to check on everyone who was injured. Aran followed her as she did so, wanting some kind of feedback on his work. Gothi gestured for him to lean down and he sighed, expecting a swift whack to the head for messing something up. The whack never came. She patted his head, and Aran felt pride swell within himself. He took a warm bath and spent the rest of the day relaxing. The next few weeks were spent helping out around town as everyone came to terms with the dragons being friendly. Hiccup hadn’t woken up yet, which was worrying, but it was only a matter of time. Gothi had tasked Aran with forcing food and water down his throat, which was odd and uncomfortable but he wasn’t about to refuse.

It took three long weeks for Hiccup to wake up. Aran didn’t find out until the next day, when he went to bring him water. He was startled to find his room empty, and he went downstairs with panic before nearly crashing into the younger boy. Hiccup dropped the wooden crutch he was using to support himself, yelping as Aran hugged him. Aran laughed, practically picking him up. Hiccup laughed a little awkwardly, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he avoided eye contact with his object of affection.

“H-hey?”

“You’re awake!” Aran cheered, putting him down and ruffling his hair. “I don’t have to force food down your throat anymore!”

“You were doing that?” Hiccup cringed a little. That didn’t seem fun.

“It was necessary. You’d have died otherwise. I’m really glad you’re up now.”

“Well duh, now you don’t have to keep me alive.”

“Oh, I definitely still have to keep you alive.” Aran laughed, picking up Hiccup’s crutch. “You could hardly walk without tripping even  _ before _ you were missing a foot!” He handed him the wooden stick.

“Hey!” Hiccup protested. Aran just laughed.

“Were you going somewhere?”

“I was just getting my journal. I forgot it on the table.” Hiccup pointed it out. “Then I was just gonna go to the Great Hall.”

“I’ll go with you. It’s been a while since we’ve been able to talk.” Aran smiled, picking up the book. Hiccup smiled back.

“It’s weird to think about. I feel like no time has passed but everything is so different…”

“It’s thanks to you.” Aran smiled. “It’s peaceful now.”

“Well, as peaceful as Berk gets.” Hiccup laughed, watching a horde of small children chase a lamb down the street.

“You know what? I’ll take it.” Aran smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry this chapter is late; i've been going through a depressive episode and college has been fine aside from this one class I just cried in the middle of but idk  
> i haven't been writing so my buffer is diminishing but maybe i'll fix that soon idk  
> and if aran's praying is wrong or weird i'm sorry about that; i'm not religious at all but he's christian so i'm idk


	18. Coming Out

The days following Hiccup’s awakening were uneventful. It had taken a few weeks for everyone in the village to get used to the dragons being around, but before too long it had become something normal. This was largely thanks to the teens making a point to bring their dragons everywhere with them. Aran had been more than eager to show Méaróg around town and the winged reptile was all too happy to help with the few lingering repairs left from the war with dragons. It had taken some convincing for the others to let him help in the first place but Aran was sure they were pleased with the results by the end of it.

Each teen had a different sort of relationship with their dragon. Astrid and Fishlegs were the most notably doting. The scar on Stormfly’s face served as a constant reminder of what Astrid had done, and what she had previously felt towards dragons. She pampered the nadder as a way of making amends and Aran would say their bond was nearly as strong as that of Hiccup and Toothless. Fishlegs, on the other hand, simply spoiled his gronckle Meatlug because he was a sweet boy who thought his dragon deserved the world. 

The twins had a fun relationship with their dragon, Barf and Belch. Aran thought the dragon was more mature than them, though it was also rather mischievous and generally assisted them in their mayhem. Snotlout and Hookfang’s relationship was difficult to describe. It was as if they were brothers, but both of them managed to be the older and younger brother at the same time. They were constantly heckling each other, but Aran knew they cared for each other in their own strangely antagonistic way. Otherwise, they would have abandoned each other already.

That wasn’t to say everything was going well with dragons on the Isle of Berk. Only a few weeks after the dragons all disappeared for their mating season (which, Aran supposed he probably could have warned the others about, but there was less sorrow and panic after he explained what was going on), old man Mildew on the opposite side of town managed to convince all the villagers it was impossible to live with dragons. Impossible to train them. Impossible. Hiccup ran himself ragged proving him wrong, though a positive thing to come from it was Chief Stoick granting him a dragon training academy- one for training instead of killing this time. The other teens had fun learning about all sorts of dragons and bonding with their own.

Aran didn’t spend much time at the academy. He was often busy helping Gothi with her healing, whether it be to gather ingredients or treat patients. His free time was spent with Méaróg because, despite the war being over, the two-thousand pound dragon didn’t exactly fit inside Gothi’s hut. When he wasn’t helping Gothi or running off to wrestle with Méaróg he would spend time with the children of the village. Some of the more overprotective parents even paid him to look after their little ones while they took a break from caretaking. He’d accumulated a decent amount of food and tradable goods. While Aran knew it wasn’t right to pick favorites, he still wound up picking one.

Her name was Addie. He’d met her before. She had big blue eyes and dark, messy hair that never stayed in its braids. Something about her was strangely familiar but Aran couldn’t put his finger on it. She was always bursting with energy and curiosity. It was common for her to interrupt him while he was working, and he wondered how she managed to escape her mother’s watchful eye so frequently. She probably just left while she was fainting, Aran mused. Her mother was prone to fainting.

None of that was to say Aran spent no time with the teens. He was still more than happy to participate in a Jorgenson Challenge. Those were generally tests of brute strength. Aran managed to hold his own in them thanks to his regular wrestling with his dragon of a brother. They had a pretty even win record and Fishlegs was usually their referee. His time spent with Fishlegs was much more peaceful. Usually the larger boy would be rattling on about something scientific Aran didn’t understand. Sometimes Aran would find him so he could take a nap. Fishlegs generally didn’t mind being used as a pillow. He also spent some time with Astrid. The girl was usually so focused on training with Stormfly that they didn’t find many moments together however.

Though he did spend time with Tuffnut to prank Snotlout, it was Ruffnut he was closer to between the twins. Ever since his bonding moment with her when they were both bleeding from their nether regions (though Ruffnut was unaware of this shared malady), the two had been just a bit closer. The relationship wasn’t anything special, but sometimes they would just sit and talk. Ruffnut was smarter than others gave her credit for and the two of them would go off the deep end of absurd hypotheticals that went further than they had any business going. Aran had a feeling there was more to her than people assumed though he didn’t attempt to push their conversations to anything more serious. She would talk to him about anything important if she wanted to.

Aran never stopped spending time with Hiccup, of course. Though both of them were busier now, they always made time to spend away from the others. The cove Toothless had stayed in became a sort of meeting place. They wouldn’t always talk. Sometimes Hiccup would spend the entire time scribbling out ideas for new contraptions to make life with dragons easier. Aran would play his tin whistle or sing; something he only ever did around Hiccup. Hiccup had never commented on his higher pitched singing voice, and for that, Aran was grateful. When he wasn’t playing music Aran would draw. He’d fallen out of practice the past couple years but he was trying to get back into it.

When they talked they could talk about anything. Hiccup still had days he needed to talk about his problems. While it was true ending the war had done him good, it didn’t mean he had gotten over all his insecurities. He was still young and inexperienced. His relationship with his dad was better, though it was still awkward and uncomfortable at times. Aran tried his best to help him through it. He didn’t tell Hiccup his father sometimes came to him for advice as well. It was funny how similar the two could be.

This didn’t mean they only spoke of negative topics of course. The two of them often joked around and spoke nonsense. Once they somehow came up with a story of trolls living in vast lands beneath them, locked in a civil war. It was an entertaining thought. If it was late enough, and both of them were tired enough, they would share stories from their respective belief systems. Aran had never learned to read Irish properly, so he admitted the stories he knew from the Bible may have been tainted by other people’s opinions. A few nights after a particularly terrible storm, they were lounging about in Hiccup’s room, wanting to spend time together but not wanting to brave the snowfall.

“Yeah, we don’t really have sins.” Hiccup said absentmindedly, hunched over papers on his desk. He was trying to think of ways to upgrade his prosthetic foot.

“Really?” Aran asked from Hiccup’s bed. He was laying on his back, head hanging off the bed and legs propped up against the wall. “We’ve got  _ loads  _ in Christianity.”

“So you’ve been telling me.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “What was that last one? You- you’re not allowed to eat things that crawl on the earth?” Aran laughed. “Don’t you have any, I dunno,  _ normal _ ones?”

“Well I mean, we’re not supposed to murder.”

“Oh man, all vikings are going to Hell.” The two of them shared a laugh.

“I guess other than that one, I’ve just been telling you the silly one.” Aran admitted. “There are plenty of others… Man can’t lie with another man, for instance.”

“Oh.” Hiccup kept his eyes trained on his charcoal stick. A lump formed in his throat. “That’s, uhh…” His mind was blank, but it was racing at the same time.

“But I don’t like that one.”

“Gobber likes men.” Hiccup said, as if the words had been fighting to burst from his mouth. “P-people used to think it was dishonourable around here but when dad found out he made it illegal to-to discriminate because of that. Y’know, because he’s the chief. And Gobber is his best friend.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Aran rolled over to lay on his stomach, not appreciating the blood gathering in his head. He smiled. “I think you live in the most progressive viking village that’s ever existed.” Hiccup laughed, relieved by the outcome of that conversation.

“Yeah, we do, huh?” Hiccup paused for a moment, debating with himself. “S-so, umm, how about you?” He asked, making a point not to look in Aran’s direction.

“Me?” Aran sat up, crossing his legs. “I never really thought about it. I didn’t spend a lot of time back home thinking about that sort of thing. I could see myself liking both really, but I had other things to worry about.”

“O-oh yeah? Things like what?” Hiccup tugged at the neck of his shirt, taking a shaky breath. He wondered if it was getting warmer but he tried to ignore it as he changed the subject.

“Er, y’know…” Aran trailed off, looking to the side and fiddling with his hair. Hiccup turned around in his chair to look at him, as he’d long since stopped paying attention to what he’d been working on. The thick, furrowed brow and frown gave Hiccup all he needed to know.

“Your secret?” Hiccup asked. He received a nod in response.

“Yeah…” Aran looked thoughtful, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the ground. “We’ve known each other for… three years now, yeah?” Hiccup blinked.

“Yeah.” He hadn’t realized it had been that long.

“And… you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t stop being my friend no matter what?” Aran looked up and met Hiccup’s eyes with an intensity he didn’t expect.

“Of course not! You were one of my first friends,  _ nothing _ could make me stop liking you- I-I  mean, stop being your friend.” Hiccup’s cheeks flushed and he wondered if he’d brought more attention to his feelings by trying to mask them. Aran didn’t seem to notice.

“D’you promise?” Aran asked, biting his lip and looking more vulnerable than Hiccup had ever seen him. Hiccup felt wrong sitting so far from him so he joined him on the bed. It was weird to notice they were the same height now.

“I promise.” He said, putting as much genuine sincerity in his voice as he could. Aran took a deep breath and Hiccup put a hand on his shoulder. He could feel how tense he was.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t born as a boy.” Aran said. “I used to have…” His eyes flicked down to his chest. “But I-I don’t know, I got drunk and I did something about it, I don’t remember what happened.”

“Wait, seriously?” Hiccup said with disbelief. “But you’re so… so…” He flexed awkwardly. Aran must have found it amusing because he laughed a little. He looked less nervous.

“Yup. I don’t have a penis.” He said, very matter-of-fact. Hiccup’s cheeks flushed and he subconsciously moved his hands as if to cover his crotch. It wasn’t as if there was anything to cover as he was fully clothed, but the blunt statement startled him.

“If it’s any consolation I never would’ve guessed, and I think it’s really… really impressive that you can still look masculine and pull of the hair.” Hiccup pointed at the tangled mess that was Aran’s ponytail and wondered when the last time he’d brushed it was.

“Thanks, Hic.” Aran smiled, hugging him. Hiccup’s breath hitched in his throat and he hugged back, noticing that Aran was actually kind of curvy. He’d never payed attention to that before.

“Any-anytime.” He stuttered, cursing his clumsy tongue.

“I really mean it.” Aran pulled away. “I lost almost all my friends in Ireland because of this. It means a lot to me that you don’t care.”

“Well, you’re still you.” Hiccup smiled softly. “I was never friends with you for your, uhh…” He trailed off then cleared his throat. “You’re nice and I like spending time with you is all.”

“You too, Hic.” Aran maintained a content smile and the two of them sat without speaking for a long moment. The moon shone brightly in the late night sky. “It’s getting pretty late.” He mentioned.

“You headed out?” Hiccup asked. Aran nodded, standing.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” He asked before moving to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah.” Hiccup nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

He watched Aran go before laying on his back. He’d learned a lot more than he’d expected during that conversation. Part of him even suggested he may have a chance with the object of his affections, but the other part squashed it down. Sure, Aran said he could see himself liking guys. Sure, Aran could probably have kids so there’d be no issue with producing an heir. Sure, there would be no problem in the village with a hypothetical situation involving the two of them being involved, but… Hiccup had his doubts that Aran would even see him in that light. He’d even told him he thought of Hiccup as family before. The overly affectionate hugs didn’t mean anything.

He thought he’d even seen Aran try to give these hugs to Astrid as well, but she always threatened him with her axe when he tried. It told him he wasn’t special, and this discouraged him. What was there to like about him in the first place? His skin was bad, he barely weighed enough to be considered healthy, his clothes didn’t fit him, and he was ridiculously clumsy. He couldn’t think of a single attractive feature he had. Hiccup thought he wouldn’t stand a chance against Astrid, or even Ruffnut. Aran was close to Ruffnut as well.

Aran was friends with everyone, really. He was something of a social butterfly and Hiccup supposed this was a good thing. It’s important to trust your doctor, after all. Hiccup hated being jealous. When Aran had first come to the island, he spent at least half of his time with Hiccup. It had been nice to know without a doubt that he was important to him. Now he just had to tell himself he was still important to his friend. Aran trusting him with that secret helped him feel valued again, so hopefully he wouldn’t feel the ugly clutch of jealousy as intensely. He almost regretted not telling him he was attracted to males. Or… well, was he really?

It occured to Hiccup that he’d never actually been interested in anyone but Aran. Sure, he’d always admired Astrid, but he realized it had been less of a crush and more a wish to have her skills. Most of those insecurities had been crushed because he didn’t want to be like Astrid now that he had Toothless. None of the other girls on the island had interested him either, and he’d never looked at Tuffnut or Fishlegs in that way. It’s not like he’d immediately been attracted to Aran either, and when he asked himself  _ why _ he liked his friend it had nothing to do with his appearance. Not off the top of his head at least. It was his compassion, his confidence, his vulnerability. He didn’t think he’d have cared if Aran were male or female. He just liked  _ Aran _ .

And he’d be happy for him even if he found someone else. Hiccup sighed and pulled his blanket up to his shoulders. Truly caring about someone meant wanting their happiness to come first. He was glad Aran had trusted him enough for that secret to come out of the closet. He hoped it was a weight off his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so so sorry i haven't updated  
> i was taking 17 hours of classes which... is apparently too much for me and i had to drop one of my classes because every time i walk into the room i just wanted to cry  
> depression hasn't been kind to me at all and i've been behind on my testosterone shots which just made everything worse  
> i have next to no motivation and i just, i'm really sorry  
> i still have 5 chapters left of buffer but i don't know if i'm going to write more by the time the fic catches up because of everything  
> just, i'm really sorry


	19. The Heather Report

Aran thought Berk was a sort of dramatic little island. Sometimes there was a certain miscommunication between dragons and humans, as demonstrated when the teens discovered the new species; typhoomerang. Sometimes Mildew caused chaos and turned the people against dragons again. Sometimes Alvin the Treacherous and his Outcasts attacked. Sometimes Chief Stoick struggled to find a dragon of his own. Sometimes Hiccup felt he had to prove himself thanks to an inaccurate painting of him and his father. Sometimes Mildew caused even more chaos by planting dragon poison flowers in the middle of town. Yes, something always seemed to be going wrong in Hooligan Village. It was simply par for the course and Aran had gotten used to it over time.

Something that _ wasn’t _ par for the course, however, was a strange girl washing up on the shore. Aran had been spending a rare day at the Dragon Academy because Gothi ordered him to take a break from helping her. Méaróg was sniffing around as he only rarely visited the arena. Aran was standing with Fishlegs as he timed everyone’s flight speeds (Stormfly was catching up to Toothless) when Snotlout flew in, claiming they wouldn’t believe what he just found. They followed him to one of the more secluded beaches, Aran catching a ride with Hiccup and Toothless. His fear of flying had by no means diminished but if there was anyone he trusted to not get themself killed on the back of a dragon it was Hiccup. He certainly didn’t trust himself at any rate. That was why Méaróg was flying along with them, rider-less.

On the beach, Snotlout revealed an unconcious girl with silky looking black hair. Aran touched his own hair, idly wondering how she could possibly get it to look that soft when his own was a tangled mess. Frightened by the gaggle of strangers crowding around her, it took a moment to coax her out from under the wrecked ship she’d presumably arrived on. She introduced herself as Heather and explained that her family had been attacked by pirates. After Hiccup told her that his father was the chief, they all decided to ride back to town. Aran thought Astrid looked mildly flustered as Heather sat behind her on Stormfly, gingerly placing her hands on her waist.

Back in town, most of the riders scattered, save for Hiccup and Astrid. They touched down when they spotted Chief Stoick and Aran was more than happy to be on solid ground again. After helping Heather down from Stormfly, Astrid bade them farewell and headed home. Aran decided to stick around as the chief told Hiccup to give up his bed for their guest. He walked with the two of them until they reached the Haddock house, at which point Aran gave Hiccup a quick hug goodbye and told him he wanted to be well rested for when he got back to work tomorrow. Aran waved to Heather as well, saying it was nice to meet her, before heading towards Gothi’s hut.

The next day, Aran helped Gothi out before heading into town. He saw Heather spending time with the other teens before smiling a little and meandering. He decided to enjoy the sunny day by sitting outside Meade Hall and sketching an image of Méaróg rolling around in the sand. Aran was wondering where the light pink dragon was when a shadow obstructed his vision. He looked up to see Heather. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Hey there. Where’s your dragon?” She asked, debating whether or not to sit down next to him. 

“Ah, he’s probably on the beach.” Aran shrugged. “I can’t expect him to spend every moment with me, can I?”

“Oh…” Heather looked disappointed.

“We can go find him, if you’d like.” Aran suggested, and her face brightened. He tucked his sketchbook in his jacket and stood. “Come on, this way.” He began leading her to Méaróg’s most likely location. “I washed up on this island too, a few years ago.” Aran told her, laughing lightly.

“Really?” Heather asked, looking up as a terrible terror flew by.

“Yeah. I didn’t have a boat though. And I almost died.” Aran shrugged, then turned to look at her. “You feel alright?” He asked, eyes scanning her up and down. “You almost look a little too healthy for someone who’s been shipwrecked.”

“I-I’m fine, I guess I just got lucky.” She smiled, then averted her eyes. “I wish I’d been luckier though… My parents…” Heather clutched her arm, biting her lip and looking back up at him.

“Well, these are just the times we live in.” Aran said, patting her back. “Things will get better, trust me.” Before that line of conversation could continue, Méaróg came bounding into sight, his tongue flopping out of his mouth.

“Oh my goodness!” Heather laughed. “How old is he?”

“I’d say about fourteen now, but he acts like he’s two.” Aran rolled his eyes as his reptilian brother threw himself at his feet and rolled onto his back. “He likes belly rubs.”

“Can I?” Heather asked, kneeling down. Aran gave her the go-ahead. “He’s bigger than Toothless.” She commented, glancing up at him.

“I guess he is.” Aran agreed. “It doesn’t do him much good though. I’ve seen the two of them fight each other for fun and Toothless wins each time.”

“So he’s not very good in combat?”

“Well, that’s probably just because he doesn’t have any experience with it. He also has trouble breathing fire unless there’s sand in it.” Aran told her. “He has a place to store the sand he eats so he can shoot out hardened balls of it and such.” He explained. Heather nodded.

“His wings are big though. Is he good at flying at least?”

“I… don’t really know.” Aran bit his lip, looking away. “I don’t fly.”

“What? Why not?” She asked, blinking in surprise.

“I just don’t!” Aran laughed. “He doesn’t have a saddle anyways. I’m too busy for that kind of thing. I don’t need to know how to fly.” He lied. In truth, he very much wished he could get over that particular fear of his, but it was difficult to do so. He would have to ask Hiccup to help him sometime.

“Ah. Okay.” Heather stood up. “Well, thank you for showing him to me.” She smiled. “I think I’m going to go ask Snotlout about his dragon.”

“Careful with him. He might flirt with you instead of staying on topic.” Aran joked, and the two of them parted.

With the topic of flying fresh on his mind, Aran decided to give it another go. He quickly decided it was a bad idea and returned to the ground within ten minutes, feeling slightly queasy. Aran took a nap before wasting the day away, doing nothing in particular. His napping led to him not being able to sleep later that night so he walked aimlessly towards town, wondering what people did on Berk at night. He supposed he could technically go drinking but he didn’t think that would be very fun without friends. The last time he’d gotten drunk had certainly had some consequences, and while he’d been happy about the outcome in the long run, it could have gone horribly wrong. In passing by the chief’s hut, Aran heard the end of a heated exchange between Hiccup and Astrid.

“Hiccup, the Outcasts could be attacking any minute!”

“Astrid, if there’s one thing I know, it’s this: Heather… is  _ not _ working for the Outcasts.”

Astrid’s lips pressed into a thin line and she kept her eyes narrowed. She stalked away from Hiccup and he shook his head, walking back into his house. Likely to go back to sleep. It was pretty late. Aran jogged to catch up with Astrid, wondering what all that was about. He tapped on her shoulder and found himself on the receiving end of a glare. He raised his hands in surrender and she took a deep breath.

“What was that about?” Aran asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Astrid crossed her arms, looking up at the sky as they walked.

“I usually try to be extremely open-minded when somebody says something like that.” Aran said, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Heather is… She’s suspicious. No, she’s not suspicious, that’s what you say when you don’t have solid proof.” Astrid kicked the dirt, her brows furrowing.

“What’s your proof?”

“Well I don’t have _ tangible _ evidence, but…”

“You know, tangible evidence and solid proof are sort of the same thing.”

“Aran.” The glare she gave him was fierce. 

“Astrid, if _ you _ of all people is getting this worked up about it, I’m going to believe you.” Aran chuckled. “Now tell me why you’re sure Heather is working with the Outcasts.”

“First night she’s here, she’s sneaking around. Next day, she tries to get to the Book of Dragons, but I’m obviously not going to let  _ that _ happen. She goes around asking all kinds of questions about everyone’s dragon’s combat capabilities, and then I find her sneaking around Hiccup’s room and snooping in the Book.”

“Suspicious.” Aran commented, wondering when she would get to the part about Heather being an Outcast and all.

“I accuse her and Hiccup doesn’t believe me, then I go to feed Stormfly but Heather snuck out the window or something I guess, because she’s there, feeding her instead.” Astrid furrows her brow. “Then she basically admits she’s up to something because she doesn’t bother using her ‘innocent routine’ with me. Like, obviously nobody’s gonna believe me!”

“Now that you mention it, everything she says sounds kind of fake.”

“Then I catch her meeting up with Savage and when I try to show Hiccup she isn’t in his bed, she just  _ magically _ seems to teleport there.”

“Well, I don’t see why you’d make something like that up. You’re not the type.” Aran said. “You told this to Hiccup and he didn’t believe you?”

“Unfortunately.” Astrid huffed as they stopped outside of her house.

“You know, I’ve noticed Hiccup has some trouble believing others when they try to tell him something about someone. It’s a different situation, but he did the same thing when Toothless was trying to tell him about that baby typhoomerang.” Aran said.

“I really hope I don’t have to give him an ‘I told you so’ at the end of this.” Astrid sighed. “Thanks for listening though. If you can try and… and I don’t know, convince Hiccup or something. I know you’re his best friend after Toothless.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Aran smiled at her. “Hug?” He asked, not wanting to be wounded if he tried without permission.

“Fine.” Astrid sounded resigned as she accepted his hug.

“Night, Astrid! Sweet dreams, say hi to your mom for me.”

Aran left, humming as he meandered through town. As he wandered back to Gothi’s hut he thought he felt a little more tired than before and went up the stairs. By the time he reached the top he decided he was definitely tired enough to go to sleep, and he did just that. He was woken earlier than he anticipated by Gothi, who was very insistent he go to the Dragon Academy. He was greeted by the sight of the riders panicking and a certain deadly nadder gone missing along with the Book of Dragons and everyone’s favorite Outcast spy. Aran wished he’d talked to Hiccup sooner, and the other boy had no doubts about Heather’s allegiance now.

Hiccup was very insistent on Aran staying behind. As he watched the dragon riders fly after Heather to prevent her from getting to Outcast Island with the Book of Dragons, he couldn’t help but feel useless. A frown marred his face as he went back through town. His frown turned to a line and his thick brows furrowed with determination as he continued to the place he kept Méaróg’s saddle. He went down to the beach his brother liked to rest in. It took a moment for the reptile to cooperate with him, and an even longer moment to remember how to secure the saddle. Aran redid his ponytail to get his bangs out of his eyes and fastened the buttons on his jacket, Méaróg making confused sounds in the back of his throat.

“ Today, I’m going to get over my fear of heights or die trying. ” Aran told him. “ Or, well, I don’t really want to die, but I would like to be able to fly without being petrified. ”

Méaróg’s tail whipped back and forth and Aran hoped he wasn’t too excited. He took a deep breath, acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating before he even mounted the dragon. He put a hand on the leather saddle, feeling the material. Méaróg quivered impatiently. Aran mounted him with caution, getting as comfortable as he was able before asking him to take off as gently as possible. Méaróg whined audibly but obliged, not wanting to be scolded later. As they flew higher, Aran felt himself shaking. He felt somewhat nauseous but he was even more determined and stubborn, so he didn’t make Méaróg land. He just had to tough it out, he told himself.

Aran toughed it out until he felt his stomach try to claw itself out of his body for his lack of eating. He landed to scrape together a meal. The assortment of fruit, bread, and cheese tasted more delectable than it had any right to and he decided to take a break before going out on Méaróg again. The longer they flew, the less shaky he felt. By the time Hiccup and the others returned he was feeling decently confident in his ability to go on leisurely flights. He wasn’t anywhere near the speed or skill for any actually pressing situations, but he felt a little better about himself and that was what really mattered in the end, wasn’t it?

After landing and eating dinner, Aran went to ask Chief Stoick if Hiccup was back yet. The chief nodded and filled him in on what his son had told him happened. The Book of Dragons was gone but they’d gotten Heather. Aran frowned and nodded, wondering if he would’ve been able to do something had he been able to go with them. He went upstairs to check on Hiccup, but he was already asleep. Aran took a moment to adjust his blanket before heading to Gothi’s hut. She fixed him a warm cup of tea and he relaxed until deciding to go to bed himself.

The next day, he got a more detailed description of the encounter with Heather from Hiccup. Her and Astrid had been fighting on Stormfly’s back when Astrid pushed her off along with the Book of Dragons. While Snotlout had been able to save Heather, the Book fell to Outcast Island. Hiccup seemed discouraged yer determined. Aran had known him long enough to know the furrowed brow, hand on his chin, and pacing meant he was formulating a plan.

Heather escaped from her jail cell several times over the course of the day, but someone (usually Astrid) caught her and sent her back every time. Aran volunteered to keep watch outside her cell because Gothi hadn’t seemed very busy. That was how he found himself sitting on the mildly uncomfortable floor of the prison. He hadn’t thought to bring a chair with him. He had regrets. Heather sat across from him, directly behind the bars. She rested her head on the metal, though Aran was sure it wasn’t comfortable. Aran wondered if she was plotting another break. She sighed.

“Why’d you do it?” Aran asked her, bored with the silence.

“Alvin has my parents.” Heather sighed. “If I got him the Book, he would let them go free.” She hugged herself. Aran tried to think of any possible reason she would be lying.

“Yeah? What are they like?”

“They’re kind, and hardworking.” Heather smiled softly. “They took me in when I was a baby and had nowhere to go. I owe them my life.”

“You’re adopted?” Aran asked for clarification. Heather nodded.

“I barely remember anything about my real parents. I don’t know if I had any siblings.” Heather explained. “My village is poor but my parents do everything they can for me. I would do  _ anything _ for them.”

“Even if it means getting Berk destroyed.” Aran said. Heather avoided eye contact. “Well, I guess I don’t blame you. It’s not like you really know any of these people, but if you’d just told everyone the truth we could’ve come up with something together.”

“I don’t like relying on other people.” Heather mumbled. She met his eyes. “And I  _ have _ to get back to Outcast Island.”

Aran took a moment to think through the possible outcomes. Sure, Heather could turn right around and stab him in the back, but something made him feel like she wouldn’t. Perhaps he trusted his intuition too much. In that moment, he couldn’t think of any reason  _ not _ to let Heather go. He got to his feet, Heather quickly following suit. She looked at him with disbelief as he opened the door to her cell.

“You’re letting me go?”

“I’m known to be impulsive. Whether or not that’s a good thing in this case, only time will tell.” He joked. “Come on, all the riders are already en route to Outcast Island. Astrid left Stormfly behind because she disguised herself as you to try and get the Book back.”

“Then we have to hurry before Astrid messes things up for me and gets my parents killed!” Heather exclaimed.

The two of them ran off to Stormfly’s stable, where Heather had to spend longer than anticipated winning the nadder’s trust. Stormfly was definitely the most wary of the dragons, largely due to the ever-present scar on her lower jaw. She was playful and energetic when she trusted you, though. Heather managed to get the saddle on her and she turned to Aran before she mounted. She glanced between him and the dragon.

“Are you staying?”

“Ah, yeah, I’d only get in the way.” Aran rubbed the back of his neck. “Just be safe out there, yeah?” He smiled at her. “Try not to let any of my friends die.”

Heather nodded and Aran watched her fly off on Stormfly. He was impressed that she managed to fly so well for someone who’d never set foot on a dragon a week ago. She flew better than him, in any case. Now that Aran’s job as the prison guard was compromised, he decided to go find Méaróg. He wasn’t in the mood to work on flying again, but he also didn’t want anyone to question why he wasn’t guarding Heather’s cell.

The riders didn’t return until the next morning, everyone accounted for. Nobody seemed to be severely injured and Heather’s parents were safe and sound. They’d gotten the Book of Dragons back as well; something Hiccup and Fishlegs were incredibly glad about. Down by the docks, a small boat was being loaded for Heather and her parents to return home. Heather was saying her goodbyes to Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, and Aran.

“I can’t thank you enough.” She said, and Aran noted how much more authentic her voice seemed than when they’d first met. It was a noticeable difference. “Especially you, Astrid. You put your life on the line for us. I’ll never forget that.”

Heather stepped forward to hug Astrid, whose eyes widened as she uncrossed her arms, not sure what to do with them. It took her a moment to move, awkwardly patting Heather’s back. When the other girl pulled away, Astrid smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. Heather smiled at the boys, going to pet Toothless’s snout and making a point to hug neither of them.

“I’m gonna miss you. All of you.”

“Eh, who knows. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime.” Hiccup said, looking slightly miffed that only Astrid had gotten a hug. He wasn’t sure why he’d been expecting one in the first place.

“Maybe we will.” Heather responded.

“Just promise me one thing: if you need help again, you’ll ask.”

“And if you ever need me to break you out of jail again, I’m more than happy to help.” Aran laughed. Astrid punched him on the arm. “Ow!”

“You can’t just go around letting people out of jail because you have a  _ feeling _ .” Astrid glared, but she seemed immensely less aggressive when she blushed at Heather’s giggle.

“Bye Astrid. You guys.” Heather smiled and turned, jogging to join her parents on the ship.

“I kind of hate to see her go.” Hiccup said.

“No kidding.” Astrid frowned.

“Yeah, she was pretty cute.” Aran watched Astrid blush from the corner of his eye. “Right, Astrid?” Astrid pushed him into the water and he yelped.

“How’s the water feel?” Astrid asked innocently.

“C-cold!” Aran shivered, accepting Hiccup’s hand when he offered his assistance.

“Good.” She walked away.

“I-I’m going to g-go change.” Aran said.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Hiccup nodded.

Yes, Berk was a dramatic little island. In the next few weeks, Thawfest would cause drama with the addition of dragons. Mildew would stir up trouble again, turning the town against Toothless once more before they came to their senses again (seriously, how did that keep happening?). Toothless himself would find himself locked in combat with an old nemesis. It was all par for the course. Aran just tried to take everything in stride and trust his gut when it told him what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, I like Heather. Also that moment? Where Heather hugs a super awkward gay Astrid and pointedly ignores Hiccup's offer for a hug in favor of petting Toothless? I took that directly from the show–there was literally no change to the scene other than me adding Astrid's blush.  
> This fic is going to have Heatstrid. And Heathlegs(?). I'm chill with poly shit so like, Heather will be with both of them and they'll all be cool with it uwu (and I hate to use that specific emote but it's the only one I can think of that fits)  
> I've written Chapter 24, so that gives me another week of security haha :')  
> I'm hoping my depression has let up a little, especially now that I'm dating the real cute guy I've been crushing on for since like, the first day of college  
> Speaking of college I'm doing AWFUL in like half of my classes;; i struggle  
> Oh well  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you next week (hopefully)!!


	20. Dagur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long, please check the end note if you wanna know what's up with me.

Dagur of the Berserker Tribe was an unpleasant individual. He was very much unlike his father, Oswald the Agreeable. Aran had never properly met Oswald, but the man he saw from a distance was kind, patient, and peaceful. That wasn’t to say he was timid, of course, and he held an air of authority about him. His son, on the other hand… Let’s just say he liked to use Hiccup as a knife-throwing target. Aran, having been on Berk for three years, had been around for two of the annual meetings to sign the peace treaty between Hooligans and Berserkers. He’d missed the one that happened around the time he first arrived on the island thanks to him being suffering from a multitude of maladies he didn’t like to think back on.

The first time Aran met Dagur, he’d already been warned of his tendencies by Hiccup. While it had somewhat terrified him, it also prepared him for the knife throwing and he was pretty sure Hiccup would’ve been severely injured had he not been around. The second time Aran met Dagur, he tried to drown Hiccup. After pulling Dagur off of his friend, he found himself being challenged to a fight by the Heir of the Berserker Tribe. Aran had been angry enough at the time that he agreed, though he insisted on there being no weapons as he had little experience with any sort of fighting with real weapons and didn’t want his head to be cut off. There was no clear victor to that fight, as it was broken up in favor of dinner, but Aran liked to think he would have won.

It was easy to see why Aran didn’t like Dagur. It was even easier to see why Hiccup didn’t like Dagur. Nobody questioned their dread when they learned Dagur would be coming again for the annual signing of the peace treaty. Hiccup was given the task of hiding all the dragons away from Oswald. When the ships arrived, that task changed to hiding the dragons from Dagur, as Oswald was pronounced dead. It went smoothly, other than Barf and Belch going wild thanks to the twins fighting amongst themselves. The group had to stage a dragon raid to scare the Berserkers off when Dagur tried to kill Barf and Belch. By the end of it Aran had nearly bust his gut trying not to laugh at everyone’s horrible acting. It was impressive the Berserkers bought it.

Unfortunately they didn’t have the luxury of an entire year without Dagur. Between the time of the treaty signing and their next encounter with the older teen, there were more skirmishes with Alvin’s Outcasts, along with various bits of drama and shenanigans that were commonplace for Berk. Aran, not properly part of the Dragon Academy thanks to his persistent fear of any complex flight maneuvers, observed most of these occurrences from afar. He had been cleaning Hiccup’s old dragon toy that had been hand-stitched by his mother (with his permission, of course) when the boy in question entered Gothi’s hut. Aran looked up from the soapy bucket of water.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He asked, lips quirking into a smile.

“Ah, well, I know you don’t really come with the group on a lot of our training exercises ‘cause, uh, well…” Hiccup trailed off, twirling his fingers.

“‘Cause I’m a big baby who can’t fly faster than Fishlegs?” Aran asked, looking back down as he submerged the dragon plush in the cold water and tried to wash it as gently as he could. He was nearly finished. The only reason he’d wanted to do so in the first place was because it was sort of grimy and it had been sitting on Hiccup’s bed so it caught his attention.

“I… wasn’t going to phrase it that way.” Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck and sat in the seat beside Aran’s.

“It’s alright. Just hard to work on by myself. I’ve gotten better.” Aran said, taking the plush from the water and wringing it out to the best of his ability without ripping any seams. One of the threads attaching a leg was getting visibly frayed. He should probably replace it, but preferably after Hiccup left so he didn’t notice.

“Ah, jeeze, I’m sorry, I keep saying I’ll help you out but-”

“Hey, you’re busy with the Academy and Alvin. I don’t blame you.” Aran moved to pat his arm before remembering his hand was wet and thinking better of it. Hiccup nodded. “What were you saying before I interrupted?”

“Right! The training mission, exercise, thing.” Hiccup took a moment to gather his thoughts. “We’re going to Dragon Island. Astrid came up with this one, actually. We’re basically trying to get from point A to point B without the help of our dragons come nightfall.”

“Well, I see why you thought I’d be able to do this one.” Aran chuckled. “How are we getting there?”

“Um, well, on our dragons.” Hiccup said. “We-we were going to have them wait at our goal and have someone watch them.” Aran nodded.

“Alright. I think I’ll ride with you.” Aran said, and Hiccup felt his heart beat the tiniest bit faster. “Méaróg gets  _ really _ bored if I make him wait anywhere. He’ll have more fun if he stays here and plays with his nadder friend.”

“Nadder friend?” Hiccup questioned.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous. His hide is this _ beautiful _ shade of purple.” Aran smiled. “What time should I be at the Academy?”

“Is an hour from now good?”

“Works for me. See you then, Hiccup.” Aran leaned over to poke his nose before picking up the towel from the floor and squeezing the toy he was cleaning.

Hiccup touched his nose and stood, waving goodbye at Aran before rushing out of the hut. Aran didn’t question the rush as he finished washing the toy. He pushed the bucket of dirty water away before taking the other bucket he’d retrieved at the same time. He poured the clean water onto the toy, rinsing it before wringing it out to the best of his ability. It was still wet, of course, so Aran hung it above the mantelpiece in a way he was sure wouldn’t lead to it’s fiery demise.

It was a little early to go to the Academy, but Aran didn’t have anything better to spend his time on so he decided to get ready. He dried his hands on the towel he’d left on the ground before pulling his shirt and jacket on. It struck him how soft his hands were and he fiddled with his nails before going to look at his reflection. He hadn’t taken his hair down in days and it certainly showed. The red bird’s nest that was his hair made him cringe. Looking around, he spotted Gothi’s comb and decided to try and do something about it.

Unfortunately, Aran failed to have the foresight of preparing his hair beforehand. If anything, he just made it look even worse. Not even sure how he would go about fixing it at this point, he took the nearest blade he could find (a dagger, though he wasn’t exactly sure when or where he got it) and started sawing it off. He wasn’t really sure what to do with the tangled mess that used to be attached to his head so he tossed it where all the garbage went.

Looking back at the mirror, he ran his fingers through the rest of his hair. The tangles were mostly gone. What was left, he easily managed to comb out. He smiled, satisfied, and decided to trim his bangs a little as well. His hair was just barely long enough to make the tiniest ponytail. It looked silly when he did so and he laughed, undoing it and putting the hair tie in his jacket pocket. Maybe it would come in handy if he really needed to get his bangs out of the way, but he didn’t expect to need it anytime soon. Now he just had to remember to keep his hair under control as he grew it out again.

Aran twisted his metal hair accessory into the longest lock of his hair before heading out of the hut. The wind ghosting against his now bare neck made him shiver and wish he had a scarf. He went down the stairs as quick as he dared, waving at people as he walked through town. Some glanced at his hair with surprise but most made no comment on it. He hummed as he neared the Dragon Training Academy. He could already hear the other teens chatting amongst themselves as he approached and he glanced at the sky, realizing he was cutting it kind of close.

“Remind me what we’re waiting for?” Tuffnut’s voice floated out into Aran’s hearing range.

“I told you, I invited Aran.”

“But Aran  _ never _ trains with us.” Snotlout pointed out.

“Well, he is tonight, okay?” Hiccup huffed.

“Sorry I’m late.” Aran said as he walked in. “I got distracted.”

“Your hair!” Fishlegs gasped.

“I know, it was getting so messy I thought it’d look better if I chopped it all off.” Aran shrugged, kind of missing it.

“You could’ve asked me to help detangle it.” Astrid said, stroking Stormfly’s face. She mounted her dragon. “Anyways, let’s go. I don’t wanna waste any more time.”

Everyone got on their dragons, Aran climbing onto Toothless behind Hiccup. He joked that Hiccup should go ahead and adjust his saddle to fit Aran properly with how much he wound up flying with him. Hiccup rolled his eyes, slowly exhaling when he became acutely aware of the half-inch of space between Aran’s chest and his back. They took off last and Aran yelped, grabbing onto Hiccup. His hands were wound tight around the other boy’s waist.

“Oh, wow.” Aran said. “You need to eat more.”

“Y-yeah?” Hiccup stammered, feeling his heart hammer in his chest.

“Yeah. You’re like a fishbone.” Aran responded. “Hey, are you taller than me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Hiccup paused. “Have you grown at all since you came to Berk?” He asked.

“Uh…” Aran took a moment to think, using his height compared to Gothi as a reference point. “I don’t think so…” He mumbled against Hiccup’s shoulder, embarrassed.

“Wow, I think I might be taller than you then!” Hiccup exclaimed, not meaning to sound as excited about that as he did. It wasn’t as if it were a huge height difference. “Astrid’s still taller than both of us though.” He rolled his eyes.

“Ughhh, it’s not fair.” Aran whined. “How come  _ Astrid  _ gets to be so tall? I thought girls were supposed to be  _ shorter _ than guys.”

“I mean…” Hiccup had a thought he wasn’t sure would be appropriate to voice.

“So I mean, I guess I get why I’m short, but why isn’t Astrid short? Even Ruff and Tuff are taller than me.” Aran pouted, resting his chin on Hiccup’s shoulder.

“At least Snotlout isn’t taller than you?” Hiccup tried to console him.

“ _ That’s _ not gonna last long.” Aran sighed. “How tall d’you think you’ll turn out?” He asked.

“I dunno. I don’t look anything like my dad and I don’t really know how tall my mom was.” Hiccup said, glad he invited Aran to come along. They didn’t get to hang out as much as they used to, especially now that Aran was eighteen and busier than ever.

“Watch you wind up taller than everyone and being the only one who can grow a full beard.” Aran laughed.

“Oh gods no, I don’t want to turn into my dad.”

Aran laughed more. Hiccup smiled, feeling comfortable and wondering if Aran wouldn’t be against going on flights with him outside of regular transportation. He’d never removed his arms from around Hiccup after takeoff and, despite Hiccup’s initial nervousness, he found he would rather have him holding onto him like that than not.

They reached Dragon Island and after going over the rules again, everyone split up. Aran realized with a start that he’d done that thing again where he forgot to bring a damn weapon and he silently cursed himself. He had some bad habits, to say the least. It didn’t make much of a difference, as he wouldn’t even use a weapon if he had one, but that didn’t stop him from feeling foolish. He snuck his way around, eventually coming across a monstrous nightmare. She was large, bigger than Hookfang even. Aran wondered if that meant she was older than him. Her colouration was blue and yellow. Luckily she was sleeping, so he tiptoed his way around her.

As he went on, he heard a suspiciously familiar deranged sort of howling and screaming. Aran was torn between getting as far away as he could, and approaching to figure out why in the world Dagur would be on Dragon Island. His curiosity got the better of him and he found himself following the sound. He knew he was in the right place when he saw the warm glow of a campfire. The various weapons didn’t hurt either.

“You feel it too, don’t you, Hiccup?” Dagur’s voice floated out through the otherwise quiet night. Aran was immediately concerned by his tone of voice, wondering how long Hiccup had been in his clutches.

“Uhh, I-I, no, I… just feel, really… awkward.” Hiccup said.

Aran finally spotted the two of them, seeing Dagur with his hand on Hiccup’s chest. Before he could grow too worried, Dagur began to laugh almost manically. He harshly shoved Hiccup to the ground and Aran realized it was just usual crazy Dagur business. Not something of a more uncomfortably impure nature. Aran shook himself, hearing Dagur call Hiccup his brother. Hiccup seemed as confused as Aran did about that, and Dagur walked away to collect specific supplies. Aran walked over to Hiccup, offering to help him up.

“Are we pretending to hunt dragons?” He asked him, whispering so Dagur couldn’t hear. Hiccup nodded.

“Oh gods, I’m so glad you’re here.” Hiccup laughed. “Wait, shoot, I told Dagur-”

“I thought you were all by yourself, Hiccup!” Dagur shouted, aiming his crossbow at Aran.

“ Oh shit. ” Aran said, raising his hands. “Um, yeah, see…” Aran squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of some bullshit excuse. “We came on the boat here, together, and I was waiting for him to get back because, y’know, he’s way better at hunting dragons than me, but then there were dragons by the boat so I came looking for him…” He rambled.

Dagur seemed to believe him because he lowered his crossbow and laughed, punching him hard in the arm. Aran glared at him and punched him equally hard in the arm as well. They had a sort of staring contest before Dagur started laughed again, turning to Hiccup.

“I like your little pet, Hiccup! He’s  _ feisty! _ ” Dagur laughed a short, harsh laugh this time, fixing Aran with an almost predatory gaze that sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Hiccup said, glaring at Dagur.

Dagur didn’t grace him with a response, only chuckling darkly. Aran had a sneaking suspicion that Dagur didn’t remember him from the other two times they’d met. He wasn’t sure if he was happy with that or not. He sort of wished Dagur remembered the time they’d physically fought each other. Maybe then the other wouldn’t have this predatory, borderline rapey stare. Or maybe he did remember, and that was precisely the reason for his behavior. Aran tried to stay behind Hiccup. He stayed out of their conversation as often as possible.

They were later joined by Snotlout and Aran was actually relieved to see him. He gave him a friendly punch in the arm and enjoyed the equally friendly insulting banter they sent at each other. Snotlout and Fishlegs screamed when they bumped into each other. Aran was starting to wish this was just a friendly outing, without Dagur. It was with shock that they found Toothless, and now Dagur was set on killing the night fury. A well timed diversion involving Astrid’s sudden appearance let the black dragon escape. Dagur went to inspect and Hiccup had a hushed conversation with her that Aran only heard the end of.

“You guys need to find Ruff and Tuff, grab your dragons, and get out of here.” There was a pause. “Don’t worry. Dagur won’t hurt me. I’m his ‘brother’!” Dagur put his arm around Hiccup and Aran’s shoulders without warning and Aran yelped, not appreciating Dagur’s hot breath on his ear.

“Come, Hiccup! While the trail is still fresh!” He began steering them away from the others.

“I-I can’t hunt with an entourage… Go back to Berk! Leave us to our business!”

“That includes me, right?” Aran asked, desperately wanting to leave. He didn’t even care that he wouldn’t be able to ride back with who he believed was the most trustworthy rider. Astrid was a close second and he’d rather be anywhere but with Dagur.

“Nope!” Dagur took his arm from around Hiccup to pinch Aran’s cheek so hard he was sure it would leave a bruise. He felt his eyes water.

Aran was all too glad when Dagur moved away from him to properly use his crossbow. He was less glad when Dagur used it to signal to his army, which was waiting for him on the water below. Dagur had Toothless trapped against a cliffside and it was that moment Hiccup decided he couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. He called Toothless to his side, revealing his true allegiance to Dagur. Aran climbed onto the dragon after Hiccup, sitting perhaps the tiniest bit closer than necessary.

Dagur was less than happy with them. Toothless was only in the sky for a few seconds before Dagur shot him down with two impeccably thrown bolas. He threw a third one to seal Toothless’s mouth shut and Hiccup made use of his ornate shield to defend the dragon from the Deranged. With Dagur’s crossbow knocked out of his hands, he threw knives at Hiccup. Aran crouched low to the ground beside Toothless and darted forward to pick a dagger up off the ground and start sawing away at the ropes keeping his mouth shut.

Aran didn’t focus too much on the action, only being mildly thankful that Dagur didn’t seem to be too interested in hurting him. He tried not to think of why that was as the battle continued. He managed to sever the rope as Dagur tackled Hiccup to the ground. Toothless shot a plasma blast at Dagur, causing him to jump off of Hiccup to avoid a quick death. Hiccup ran over to help cut the rest of Toothless’s ropes before Dagur got up. The two of them mounted the dragon and Aran held tight to his friend as he chased Dagur off.

The riders began their flight home, Hiccup making the choice not to chase after Dagur and his men. Aran said nothing, finding it very difficult to think of anything but Dagur’s behavior towards himself that night. It had been more than uncomfortable. His cheek still stung from where Dagur had pinched him and he was glad Hiccup had been there the whole time. There was no telling what Dagur would have done otherwise. His mind was both racing and blank at the same time. It was confusing and terrible.

“Are- are you okay?” Hiccup asked as they neared Berk, Aran’s lack of talking becoming more and more worrying.

“I’m fine.” Aran said quietly, causing Hiccup to frown. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the sunrise.

The group split up as everyone flew to their houses. Hiccup touched down outside of his own house instead of dropping Aran off at Gothi’s hut. Aran loosened his arms from Hiccup’s waist, wondering why he’d chosen to do this. The younger teen simply got down from Toothless and offered to help Aran down as well. He led him into the house, putting a finger to his lips as his father was likely still asleep. Aran wasn’t sure why he wasn’t just going to Gothi’s hut. He was confused when Hiccup started heating up a pot of water, and continued to not understand why Hiccup was making tea.

Hiccup put the kettle, cups, and honey on a tray before nodding towards the stairs. They went to Hiccup’s room, where Toothless was already curled up on his slab and sleeping. Aran sat on Hiccup’s bed, accepting his cup of tea and pouring honey into it. He felt exhausted, but he also felt it would be impossible to try and sleep. Aran held the warm cup in both hands, not sure why he wasn’t drinking it. Hiccup sat next to him, his big green eyes filled with worry.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I told you I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” Aran smiled at him, bringing the cup to his lips and blowing on the steaming liquid.

“Aran…” Hiccup’s brows furrowed.

“I mean it!” Aran insisted, sipping the tea and ignoring the fact that it was still too hot and his eyes were starting to water.

“I just want you to be able to talk to me about stuff…” Hiccup frowned. Aran looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “You- you don’t have to protect me, if that’s what you’re trying to do. I’m not expecting you to be some invincible person who’s always happy.”

“But that’s what you needed.” Aran said quietly, looking into his cup. Hiccup sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Yeah. Maybe I did a year ago. But not anymore.” He put a tentative hand on Aran’s back. “You’re my best friend, after Toothless. It worries me when you bottle stuff up like this.” Aran sniffed, putting his tea down.

“It just… made me uncomfortable is all. Dagur did.” Aran said, then bit his lip, looking away. “The thought of what he could’ve done to me if you weren’t there… it’s…”

“Scary?” Hiccup provided, sitting the slightest bit closer and moving his arm to properly be around him. Aran nodded.

“And-and I felt pretty useless on the mission too. I can’t even really fly, or fight.” Aran hugged his knees, leaning into him. Hiccup exhaled. Aran had always joked about his inability to do those things. He hadn’t realized that was just a thinly veiled way to convey his embarrassment.

“Well how about I help you with your flying starting tomorrow?” Hiccup suggested. “And Astrid can help you with combat.” Aran smiled, wiping his eye.

“Thanks…” He mumbled. “Sorry about this.”

“Eh, I’ve cried on you plenty of times.” Hiccup said, brushing his apology off. He took his hand back when Aran reached down to get his tea. “Only fair for you to return the favor.”

“I should probably head home…” Aran said with a yawn before drinking the tea, now at a reasonable temperature. Now that they’d talked some, his exhaustion was beating down his inexplicable inability to sleep.

“It’s kinda far.” Hiccup pointed out. “I don’t mind you crashing here, I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“I can’t take your bed.” Aran said, trying to refuse.

“No, no, it’s fine, really.” Hiccup smiled at him. “The couch is pretty comfy anyways.”

“You’re being stubborn, aren’t you?” Aran asked with a slight smile.

“Aren’t I always?” Hiccup asked, taking Aran’s cup as he finished it.

“Mmm…”

Despite Aran’s protests, he drifted to sleep. Hiccup pulled the covers over him and carefully worked the metal hair spiral out of his hair. He cautiously left a kiss on Aran’s forehead and his cheeks flushed red. He pretended he hadn’t just done that, busying himself with picking the tea tray back up. Hiccup carefully made his way down the stairs, seeing his father awake and carving a wooden duck.

“Oh, uh, hey dad!” Hiccup greeted. “Want some tea?”

Stoick didn’t even want to question what his son had been up to. He just accepted the tea and said nothing when Hiccup collapsed on the couch and fell asleep within moments. He did take the time to adjust his position on the couch to prevent any unfortunate cramping. Sure, he was an awkward father, but one couldn’t say he didn’t try. Stoick was best when he didn’t need to use words. The Chief of Berk left the house, starting his day as the younger generation finally ended theirs. He would find out about the Berserkers later. For now, Hooligan Village was at peace as the townsfolk slowly went about their morning routines, enjoying the sounds of birds chirping and dragons beginning to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, SUPER sorry it's taken me so long to update. Please believe me when I say I DO want to finish this fic. I haven't been writing anything at all lately and my motivation has been piss-poor thanks to my depression. In my Note last chapter I said I was getting better and I had a boyfriend, but that wound up to be a terrible relationship (nothing abusive, we were just way better off as friends). Now I have a girlfriend and they're way better for me! I've been going through a lot of stuff, and I'm on antidepressants now. College has been really rough and I'm super nihilistic so I struggle to find the motivation to do any of my work because I don't see the point in any of it, and that in turn stresses me out and makes me want to curl up and hyperfocus on videogames (namely Fire Emblem). Hidden World is out now though, so I'm excited to see it this weekend with my gf! I'm hoping that'll help me with motivation, and I'm so sorry to all of you who have been waiting on an update.  
> Thanks for taking the time to read this, I love all of you and it means to world to me when you comment <3


	21. Jealousy

Aran was confused to wake up to Toothless sniffing him. It took him a moment to remember he’d spent the night at Hiccup’s house. He sat up and scratched the dragon beneath the chin before heading downstairs. Hiccup was still asleep, positioned awkwardly on the couch. There was a quilt that looked like it had been knocked to the ground. Aran suspected Hiccup was the type to move while he slept. He looked out the window, noting that it was nearly midday. He explored the house until he found what looked like the last of the meat stored and a few eggs, as well as some bread and vegetables. Aran decided to make lunch.

Hiccup woke up with a crick in his back and the smell of food being cooked. Both things were odd. The sound of Aran humming reached his ears and he guessed his friend was probably cooking. He sat up and tried to stretch his back into place to no avail. Aran greeted him from the fire pit and he nodded. A few minutes later, he was handed a sandwich.

“Eggs?”

“Eh, I just sort of threw everything together. You don’t have much.” Aran shrugged, taking a bite of his own sandwich. “It doesn’t taste bad.”

He wasn’t wrong. The two of them ate their lunch before heading out, Hiccup reminding Aran that he’d promised to help him with flying. After finding Méaróg on the beach, they all took to the sky. An hour of work provided little progress. Hiccup instructed Toothless to land and Aran followed soon after, sending him a curious look.

“Why don’t you ride on Toothless with me?” Hiccup suggested. “That way you can get used to higher speeds and heights.”

Aran only nodded, getting on Toothless’s back. He let out a girlish squeak when Toothless shot into the sky, holding onto Hiccup so tightly he feared his ribs may bruise. Hiccup hissed at Toothless to slow down as Aran covered his mouth, thoroughly embarrassed by the sound that just left him. Toothless decided not to listen to his rider and zipped off, away from Berk. Hiccup had no choice but to go along with it, as trying to fight him would only result in them plummeting into the ocean, perhaps crashing into a sea stack or two along the way. Aran was muttering a string of words in Irish. Hiccup couldn’t tell if they were prayers or curses. They were both.

After Aran finally went quiet, Toothless slowed his pace, easing out into a gentle glide. Hiccup noticed his friend’s grip on him had loosened considerably, though his hands still lingered on his waist and caused his heart to beat faster. He was looking down at the ocean, seeing ripples and splashes in the water below. Hiccup followed his gaze and guided Toothless lower, so they could see the pod of thunderdrums breaching. Aran laughed softly, a grin on his face. They flew low enough for Aran to lean down feel the spray of water when he reached his hand down.

Hiccup was glad Toothless was paying more attention than he was as they approached a large sea stack. The night fury flew around it, slowing his pace and beating his wings harder to reach the top of it. They landed, and Hiccup recognized the stack as the one he’d landed on for his first flight with Toothless.  The remains of the fire he’d made were barely visible, weathered away over the year it had been since they’d last seen it. They rested for a moment. Hiccup was curious of what was going on in Aran’s head as the two of them sat on the rocks, the wind blowing at their hair.

“You know, I don’t think Astrid likes you back.” Aran said. Hiccup had to blink a few times to process what he’d just said, and even then, his response was less than eloquent.

“Huh?”

“Astrid. You told me you fancied her.” Aran said. “Last year. When we flew here last time.” He added for clarification.

“Oh.” Hiccup had forgotten about that lie. “What, uh, what makes you say that?”

“Oh my- Hic, did you not see the way she looked at Heather?” Aran laughed.

“With… mistrust because she thought she was a traitor?” Hiccup responded, raising a brow and not understanding.

“She got pretty flustered around her.” Aran shrugged. “It was kind of cute.”

“Right.” Hiccup hadn’t noticed that. “They’d be cute together.” He said, though he didn’t really have any opinion on the matter.

“Yeah, they would be.” Aran agreed. “So you’re over her?”

“Ah, I never really liked her in the first place.” Hiccup admitted. “I mean, I like her, yeah, as a friend.” He added.

“Huh, alright then.” Aran nodded.

“So, uh, last year.” Hiccup said. Aran looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “You said you didn’t like anyone.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. Still don’t, really.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just don’t fancy people?”

“Maybe.” Hiccup responded, a mixture of hoping it was or wasn’t true.

He wasn’t sure what else to say to that. The two of them sat for a moment longer before deciding to head back before it got too late in the day. The flight back was pleasant and Aran spent most of it looking around. Hiccup thought it was a marked improvement. It was even better than his endless babbling from the flight to Dragon Island. He’d realized in hindsight that Aran had a tendency to babble when trying to distract himself from something, not unlike himself.

They returned to Berk and Aran decided Méaróg had probably gone of to play with his friends when he didn’t spot him at the beach. The two of them walked through town, vaguely searching for Astrid. They found her when they decided to head to the Dragon Academy. She was working on her and Stormfly’s aim, making use of the targets they had plenty of. Astrid spotted them out of the corner of her eye and pointed before shouting.

“Stormfly, spine shot!”

Aran froze and felt the spine shoot a fraction of an inch past his ear. The wind jostled his hair and he felt terror shoot through him. Astrid laughed at them and Aran turned to see Hiccup looking more unamused than startled. They met in the middle, Aran putting his hands in his pockets and realizing he didn’t even have a weapon with him. The whole point of finding Astrid was for combat training. Why did he always forget about the weapon part?

“Impeccable aim, as always.” Hiccup said, rolling his eyes.

“We try our best. What’s up?”

“Aran wanted weapon training.” Hiccup told her.

“Y’know, maybe I should go find someone else.” Aran suggested, sweating at the eager glint in Astrid’s eye.

“No way! I’d be more than happy to train you.” Astrid said, pulling back her fist with the intent to give him a ‘friendly’ punch in the arm. Aran dodged. “See, look at that, you’re already miles ahead of Hiccup!”

“H-hey!” Hiccup protested. Astrid only shrugged.

“We can start now if you want, Aran.” She said, walking over to one of the targets around the arena to retrieve her axe. “Go over the basics, decide what weapon you wanna start with, y’know.”

“Well, just so long as you don’t kill me.” Aran shrugged.

“Uh, you two be safe.” Hiccup said, backing away.

Aran’s first ‘combat lesson’ didn’t involve any actual fighting. Astrid went over some general things to remember before covering what kind of fighting style would work best with each type of weapon. The lesson ended when Astrid decided she was hungry, and the two of them went to the Great Hall to eat.

Fight and Flight lessons continued irregularly, though generally weekly, after that. Aran wasn’t able to help when whispering death eggs hatched beneath the town, and all he could do was watch as the group chased off the screaming death that hatched alongside them. When Hookfang lost his fire, Aran had been a bit busy with working for Gothi, but he’d made time to lend his comfort to Snotlout. Snotlout hadn’t wanted to speak, or admit that he had emotions. Aran didn’t force him. He’d been asleep when Astrid, Hiccup, and Fishlegs went after flightmare, learning the story the next day. Later in the month, Aran went with the group to help tag dragons from different islands, only to turn back when he was deemed unprepared for an encounter with the screaming death.

It almost felt like Hiccup was protecting him, which was embarrassing. Aran knew he was the weakest flier of the group thanks to his lack of experience, but he also thought he wasn’t going to  _ get _ any experience if Hiccup didn’t let him go out and participate. He had the opportunity to help disarm old dragon traps littered about the island, though it took a lot of convincing Hiccup and it was interrupted by the forest fire accidentally caused by the twins. Aran was glad not to go with the group when they had to overthrow a joint Outcast-Berserker plot and face Dagur and a skrill. Hiccup was glad not to tell him of any of the inappropriate comments Dagur made in his absence.

When Snotlout thought he was dying and insisted Gustav train to take his place, the only thing the others thought to do with him was use him to convince Snotlout he wasn’t dying. Aran had a sneaking suspicion that taking Gustav anything but seriously would lead to chaos and suggested they actually train him. He also kept a close eye on him and managed to keep him from following the others on a mission, explaining to him that even _ he  _ wasn’t allowed on most of the missions and he’d been working on his flying for a couple months at that point. He managed to keep Gustav busy by showing him the training lessons Hiccup had started him off with. The dragon riders returned later with news that the mission was a bust; Dagur had set up a trap for them that they managed to escape. Aran was glad he’d kept Gustav from going. He was made a ‘Junior Apprentice Auxiliary Reserve Backup Replacement Rider in Training: Fourth Class’ and Hiccup begrudgingly agreed to give him basic training at Aran’s request.

Later that week, the dragon riders split into two different groups to go on patrol in search of the screaming death. Aran had been late to show up and Astrid couldn’t hide her relief when he joined her and Snotlout. Hiccup was a little disappointed, though nobody noticed. It wasn’t as if he were going to change the grouping just because he wanted to be with his crush (as much as he wanted to). When Hiccup and the others were late meeting up after they finished, the trio went to go find him and wound up having to chase off a multitude of changelings. It was Aran’s first real experience with a real fight on the back of a dragon.

It turned out the group was trying to save a trapped scauldron who had taken a shine to Ruffnut. When they finally removed the boulders trapping its wing, Aran’s medical expertise came in handy as they gathered materials to make a splint for its broken appendage. When they didn’t have enough rope and the changewings were closing in, Ruffnut had the brilliant idea of cutting her braids off to save Scauldy. Aran had trouble looking away from her new haircut as they began flying back to the Isle of Berk.

“Has anyone ever told you you look like a boy?” Tuffnut asked his sister after she said bye to Scauldy.

“I think it looks pretty.” Aran said without thinking, cutting off whatever retort had been on the tip of Ruffnut’s tongue. The twins looked at him and he blushed, though it was because he hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud rather than actual embarrassment.

“Ew. Why would anyone think  _ you’re _ pretty?” Tuffnut looked at her and squinted.

“ _ I _ think it’s sweet.” Ruffnut said, Barf’s head rising to be closer to Aran.

“You should keep it like that.” Aran smiled at her, reaching out to touch it briefly. It was, of course, covered in fish oil, so he didn’t touch it for long.

“That’s it, I’m going up there with you.” Ruff stated, getting to her feet and taking a moment to balance. Aran helped her up and she put her hands on his waist. “Oh Freyja, you’ve got rock hard abs. Y’know I guess you’re kinda handsome, even though you’re shorter than me.”

Aran laughed, not noticing the frown marring Hiccup’s face. It didn’t go unnoticed by Astrid though, and she decided not to go to her own home when they got back to Hooligan Village. Tuffnut, having to fly Barf and Belch by himself, wound up crashing into the ground. His sister laughed at the sight and her and Aran went off somewhere else, though Astrid wasn’t sure where. Fishlegs and Snotlout went to their respective homes and Hiccup didn’t land, so Astrid decided to keep following him. He stopped in the cove where she’d first discovered Toothless and Astrid touched down next to him. It was clear he was distracted when he was startled to see Astrid even though she’d been following him the whole time.

“I thought you and Aran were kind of a thing.” Astrid said before he could speak. The panicked look on his face almost made her laugh, but she refrained.

“Wh- who, m-me? And Aran?” He laughed, his entire body shaking as he looked everywhere but her face. His cheeks were red. “That’s- that’s ridiculous.” Astrid raised a brow.

“Oh really?” She folded her arms over her chest, leaning against Stormfly who was sniffing around in the dirt.

“Yup, yeah, that’s- yeah, we’re not a thing, I don’t even  _ want _ to be a thing.” He laughed more, without sincerity.

“And that’s why you looked like you drank sour yak milk when Ruff got on Aran’s dragon?” She questioned further. Hiccup sighed and she knew she’d worn him down.

“Okay, fine, not all of that is true.” He said, sitting on a rock. Astrid went to join him. “We’re not a thing though.” He sounded glum.

“So, how long have you liked him?” She asked, though it was by no means her expertise. Somehow she got the feeling that Hiccup didn’t get to talk about this with anyone. She knew for a fact that the other teens would only mock him for his crush, except for Fishlegs, who was generally more interested in research and science than that sort of thing.

“Ah, I dunno. Since before we fought the Red Death.” Hiccup said, pulling his knees to his chest. Astrid winced a little, because that had been almost a year ago. A long time to be pining for someone; especially your closest friend.

“Were you ever going to tell him?”

“Probably not.” Hiccup shrugged. “He’s out of my league.” Astrid blinked.

“Hiccup, you’re the heir to the tribe. Nobody is out of your league. I don’t even  _ like _ boys but it’s not like I could say no if you wanted  _ my _ hand.” She said, and both of them shuddered.

“Ew, that sounds so weird when you say it.” Hiccup put his hands on his ears. “It’s not like it’d mean anything if he just  _ had _ to be with me. All I am is his scrawny little friend. He met me when I was twelve and even more pathetic.”

“Yeah, but he’s also seen you grow into this great person.” Astrid nudged his shoulder. “I dunno if you’ve noticed this, but Aran’s not exactly the sharpest sword in the smithy. He isn’t going to pick up on anything if you’re not obvious about it.” Hiccup sighed.

“I know. There’s no point now though.” He thought about Ruffnut and selfishly wished she hadn’t cut her hair.

“Hey, you never know, maybe they won’t be a thing.” Astrid said. “Just because you flirt a little with someone doesn’t mean you have to get married.”

Aran and Ruffnut  _ did _ become a ‘thing’ though. He even convinced her to wash her hair, though Hiccup was positive he didn’t want to know what the incentive was. Aran had taken to leaving short little braids in her hair, as it was technically unacceptable for a woman to have loose hair. The two of them would flirt and hold hands, but it wasn’t overbearing or disgusting so Hiccup was hard-pressed to find any excuse to be visibly upset that didn’t reveal his own feelings for Aran. The two of them seemed so effortlessly comfortable around each other and Aran hadn’t felt any need to be affectionate with Hiccup since he’d started dating her. He still spent time with Hiccup, but none of the hugs were there. It seemed he already had his fair share of affection now that he had a girlfriend.

“… So Finn and I, right, we’ve practically got an angry mob chasing after us just because of a single apple!”

“Oh man. Your hometown would be  _ so _ easy to Loki.”

“Easier to Loki than Fishlegs.” Aran chuckled.

“Now  _ that’s _ easy.” Ruffnut said, leaning against him.

Astrid hadn’t been wrong when she said Aran wasn’t the sharpest sword in the smithy. He didn’t notice anything wrong with Hiccup and nobody seemed to have any objection to him and Ruffnut. The two of them weren’t vocal about their relationship but if anyone asked they weren’t afraid to tell. He shared humorous hijinks from his hometown with her, leaving out any of the less fun stories as he didn’t enjoy revisiting them and she didn’t want to hear them. Their relationship wasn’t very sexual (nothing beyond kissing and a playful grope here and there), so Aran hadn’t been planning coming out to her any time in the near future.

“Urgh, it’s like something really  _ angry _ is trying to rip me up inside.” Ruff winced, curling in on herself, hands on her abdomen. Aran rubbed her back.

“That bad? I sure know how  _ that _ feels.” Aran empathized, shuddering a little. He’d finished bleeding only a few days earlier. His hand trailed up to her hair and he gently massaged her scalp. The six horned helmet was sitting off to the side, having been discarded a while ago.

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

“Really!” Aran insisted. “I used to have breasts, you know.” He said, wondering why it was so easy to tell her when it had taken him so much energy to come out to Hiccup. Maybe it was because with Hiccup he’d been afraid to lose everything. Maybe it was the shared experience of uterine pain. Maybe it was because Ruffnut once told him Astrid had a cute butt.

“Huh… No, I don’t get it.” She groped his flat chest and Aran laughed.

“I cut them off.” Aran said, pulling down the neck of his shirt to show his scar better.

“Ohh, that’s hot.” Ruffnut licked her lips. “So like, you seriously know how it feels. That’s awesome. I can complain to you in all the detail I want and you won’t get grossed out.”

She proceeded to do just that and while that statement wasn’t completely true (he got a little bit grossed out), he could relate to a lot of what she was saying. Aran realized they had to get to the Dragon Academy however, so they didn’t get to continue that line of conversation. From speed stingers to feuds amongst their own dragons and the Chief having to release Thornado, things on Berk were never dull. Aran liked to think he wasn’t absolutely terrible at riding anymore, though he wondered if he were imagining it when he thought Hiccup was spending less time with him. Then again, maybe that was his own fault for spending so much time with Ruffnut.

The others had noticed Hiccup’s sour mood over the past month. On missions or training exercises that involved multiple teams, he almost always made sure Aran and Ruffnut were separated. Astrid was well aware of the reason, though Ruff whined obliviously about it. There seemed to be a slight tension between Tuff and Aran due to him monopolizing all of his sister’s time, so the male Thorston twin was more than happy to be away from Aran for a while. Snotlout didn’t seem to notice anything, but Fishlegs was concerned with the strange tensions between Hiccup, Aran, and the twins. Astrid told him what was going on without asking Hiccup, who wound up embarrassed when Fishlegs tried to comfort him.

Jealousy was a nasty emotion. He was just glad Snotlout hadn’t noticed and decided to start making fun of him. True, it was technically illegal to discriminate against someone due to their romantic preference. That was what he’d told Aran, and he hadn’t been making that up. The full truth, however, was that people had a hard time letting go of their prejudices so quickly. Nobody said anything when their Chief was around, and nobody said anything to or about Gobber. That didn’t stop everyone from thinking it was dishonorable, however, and if there was one family Hiccup knew hadn’t changed it was the Jorgensons.

Snotlout was often reluctant when it came to breaking away from his father’s ideals. He held Spitelout’s opinion and approval so high on a pedestal that it took something like Hookfang almost dying for him to consider changing. The last thing Hiccup needed was for Snotlout to know he was jealous of Ruffnut. He was glad his cousin was so dense sometimes. Most times. The entire situation stressed him out. He needed a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha i'm so depressed but anyways here's this


End file.
